


With Dirt In My Lungs

by 13Kat13



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Castiel/Dean Winchester - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy, Fluff, I think? How slow is slow? Like I have to give them the dick at some point right?, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Third Person, SPN - Freeform, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Supernatural - Freeform, Top Castiel, Top Dean, Virgin Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-17 01:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 79,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9298109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13Kat13/pseuds/13Kat13
Summary: After breaking free from fourteen years worth of imprisonment at the hands of his uncle, Castiel flees to a new life. But as he strives to leave his past behind him, it comes knocking with a new face. A very pretty, freckled face with green eyes.A/N - this is set in a world that's sort of like England during the Industrial Age, so cars, electricity and guns exist but they're not widespread yet.For anyone who's already read this I missed out an entire chapter! Chapter 23 is new as somehow I managed to skip it!





	1. Chapter One

_Keep going, keep going, keep going, keep going, keep going_

 

A mantra in Castiel's head.

 

 _So close, come on._ _Keep going, keep going, keep going_

 

A prayer to match the tempo of his wildly beating heart.

 

_Keep going_

 

He could taste freedom, but he'd been running for so long he could also taste copper.

 

_Keep going keep going keep going keep —_

 

An arrow whistled by over his head, drawing a grunt of surprise from him in its wake.

_He doesn't care if I live, you could stop, you could —_

 

Castiel crushed the temptation between his clenched teeth as he pounded on. There were shouts on his left now as well as behind him, the angry voices of men who'd had to abandon their horses over the uneven forest floor.

 

 _Keepgoingkeepgoingkeepgoingkeepgoing, can't let them flank, keep_ going

 

The squawk of a bird startled into flight as he dove to the right.

 

_Keep going_

 

The underbrush opened out suddenly, an alarming lack of trees, of bushes, of anything.

 

_Keep_

 

His feet slipping, arms pin wheeling as his hands clutched at that simple but oh so important thing called balance.

 

_Keep_

 

Clumps of dirt and rock avalanched under the feet he was so desperately trying to keep beneath him, even as they set their own pace, hurtling him down the steep side of the dried out riverbed.

 

_Keep_

 

And then those feet were gone, caught on a rock as his upper body abruptly caught up with them. And he was lurched forwards so fast that the breath was stolen right from his lungs.

 

_Keep_

 

The whole world turned upside down, his hands connected sharply with the floor, stones giving an abrupt reminder of their presence beneath the leaf litter by taking his skin.

 

_Keep_

 

And it wasn't quite the same as rolling down hills as a child, not when his legs and body couldn't decide who should be on top, not when his shoulder connected with a rock and the crown of his head with a branch.

 

_Keep_

 

There was dirt in his mouth and grit in his eyes, and if the forest would just stop tumbling over itself for a moment that’d be great. But then his spine connected with a branch and the explosion of pain was enough to knock the nausea right out of him.

 

A few more rag-doll rolls, before he landed hard on his back, the stark, colourless sky of an overcast morning above him. Adrenaline didn’t let him curl into the ball of pain that his body wanted to, it turned him over, pushed him up, pulled him through the mud.

 

He couldn’t stop the cough that rattled harsh and loud from his chest, dislodging the grit from his throat and painting the area with his presence. There was a rustle in the underbrush of what must’ve once been a stream nourishing the dry river bed, and he thought he knew all the shades of fear but this one was really a kicker.

 

Then he was turning, grasping for a rock, a branch, anything so long as he didn’t have to go back. Then his hand found it and he almost laughed, except those were tears in his eyes.

 

_Going_

 

As his pursuer emerged, the crest of the king winking from a hunter’s jerkin, Castiel bit down on the half rotten apple, fermented juice dripping over his manic grin.

 

“Wai—”

 

The arrow that buried itself into the ground just shy of the mercenary’s foot silenced his protest.

 

“Why,” Castiel spat, a fresh arrow cocked into place in a bow that had apparently woven itself from the forest floor, “would I wait?”

 

The mercenary’s eyes were wide, and Castiel had time to take him in, to drag his eyes over that startled green gaze, the slightly parted lips, the supplicating raised hands. He had time for the savage satisfaction that he could blot out someone so pretty, could take away Michael’s lovely little hunter.

 

The wind stirred the leaf litter in which Castiel was still crouched. A pause that lasted no longer than a coin toss, but had that same strange elongation of time, as the mercenary took in the bow clasped in Castiel’s hands. The tree roots, shooting straight up out of the earth and still buried in it, were woven into a handle. It was not big, and it was certainly not his most symmetrical work, but Castiel had thinned and warped the root acting as a string; given it enough elasticity to send the sharpened twig of an arrow through a man’s chest.

 

“Because I want to help,” the hunter said.

 

The doubt that Castiel allowed in for a moment almost made him shoot the man. No. He wouldn't be trapped by trust. Not again.

 

Castiel’s chest was heaving. He was no longer trying to silence his breathing, and the oxygen felt good in his searing lungs. As did the rotten apple juice in his mouth.

 

The shouts of the guards seemed to have faded. But Castiel knew that when they sensed their trail had gone cold they’d double back. Which is exactly why he should shoot the hunter. He could get away, and without a hunter helping them to track him he could stay lost.

 

But still. The seconds dragged, and Castiel saw the moment the other man decided he may stand a chance. His lips twitched, preparing to form more words. More lies.

 

“Don’t.”

 

Castiel’s shrill warning quavered unthreateningly as his voice broke. But the bowstring being pulled further back was reason enough for pause in the hunter.

 

Then Castiel observed another choice, another decision played out over the hunter’s features. How alien, his slightly hysterical inner voice mused, to be in the presence of a man who wears his emotions so openly.

 

The mercenary’s brow set in determination, his lips pursed, and then he was talking.

 

“He took my brother,” were the words he chose to risk his life with.

 

The wind stirred the leaves again, ran its fingers through the hunter’s hair, teased the soft brown strands slightly from where they were pushed back from his forehead. The hunter blinked against it, eyes never leaving Castiel’s. He’d dropped his hands to his sides. And although there was a slight slump to his shoulders, there was also a defiant tilt to his chin.

 

“So?” Castiel hissed, bowstring still pulled taught against his cheek, head cocked as he stared down the length of the arrow and into the hunter’s eyes. “Michael takes a lot of people. Clearly hasn’t stopped you working for him.” With a flick of his chin, Castiel gestured to the crest of the king on the hunter’s chest.

 

“I— I’m not,” the hunter stammered, hands rising slightly, as though they could halt the arrow. “I came for you.”

 

“So did those other guards.” Castiel’s arm was starting to ache from the strain of holding the arrow in place.

 

“No,” the hunter let out an exasperated huff. “I came to help.”

 

This would be so much easier if Castiel had more fruit. Or if he just shot the man. The voices of the guards were getting louder again, somewhere off to the right, in the direction he’d been running before he fell. Something passed over the hunter’s face.

 

“We have to get out of here,” he said.

 

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Castiel returned. The muscles in his arm really weren’t used to this kind of strain, and the arrow was quivering in his grasp.

 

“Well then let me create a diversion whilst you get away,” the hunter said desperately, throwing a worried glance over his shoulder.

 

“Why—?”

 

“I told you why,” the hunter cut him off, his caution gone as he turned away from Castiel slightly. “Now go before they catch up.”

 

There was a hideous moment of realisation that Castiel wasn’t strong enough to take the bow with him. If he was to let the hunter live, he’d have to retreat unarmed. If he was to kill him, Castiel might be responsible for spilling the blood of an innocent man.

 

His strength made the decision for him. The bow lost its shape and the roots sank back into the earth. Castiel released it with a sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly. He shot a wary look at the hunter, but the other man made no move to take advantage of his unarmed state. Instead he was watching the roots Castiel had manipulated as they sank back into the forest floor with fascination, wonder in his eyes. Then his gaze flicked back up to meet Castiel’s.

 

“Go,” he said. “I can give you some time, but you have to go now.”

 

Castiel didn't need to be told again, he was already scrabbling backwards. He caught a glimpse of the hunter turning away and unsheathing the sword at his hip, before he too turned and scrambled to his feet.

 

Castiel wasn’t sure how long he ran for. It might've been hours, it might've been less. The overcast sky didn’t tell him much; the bloody blisters on his feet were the only measure.

 

He was too exhausted for his mantra, there was just a tinny ringing in his ears, as though he’d stood too close to one of his mother’s exploding experiments. It was panic’s national anthem. Eventually even that faded, and by the time he dragged himself out the water of a river he'd waded across, it was just half jumbled instinct leading him.

 

Castiel hauled himself up the riverbank, the dirty grey linens of his the basic clothing he wore in captivity clinging to his skin. There was water in the canvas plimsolls on his feet, but at least they were still on.

 

He took a stumbling step, and then Castiel was falling to his knees. His hands half caught him, mostly slipping over the tree roots that they grasped for. His throat was raw, and he could taste the miles he’d run sharp on his tongue. His lips cracked into a smile, and then he was laughing, a hysterical sobbing cackle that tore the air with his hiccuping relief.

 

Freedom. It was unfurling inside him as the breaths stuttered unevenly from his lungs, a feeling so heavy that it constricted his chest and put tears in his eyes. So happy that it was devastating, his body aching with joy.

 

And through the thumping headache, and the pain spiking through his chest, he thanked the green-eyed hunter.

 

* * *

 

The cabin Castiel had made his home smelt of pine and eucalyptus. The kitchen table a hefty chunk of oak, stretching from the stout iron stove on one wall, to a plush armchair that sat in front of the fire in the other. Dust motes swam through sunlight as it fell through a round window, which pooled its light onto the terracotta tiles, which in turn bounced it to the brass pots hung above the wooden work-surface lining the wall with the door in. Through that door there could be found a long rug, woven with deep colours and worn by steps.

 

The rug ran its way past a snug room lined with bookshelves, and a bedroom that boasted a double bed.

 

The front door opened, wide logs still wearing their bark swinging inwards on iron hinges, and Castiel stepped through.

 

He held a bunch of lavender whilst he tucked a large key back into his pocket. The marks of manacles had long faded, and his dark hair had grown out the choppy uneven cut. The sleeves of his loose linen tunic were pushed up, and he shed the soft canvas plimsolls as he made his way towards the kitchen.

 

A kettle was dislodged from the stove as Castiel carried it over to a deep sink set in one of the work-surfaces. He tossed the lavender on the tabletop as he passed back to place the kettle over the flame. Deft fingers shifted through the bunches of herbs strung above the table, as he pulled out barley, fennel, and thyme. An assortment of herbs not so easily recognisable were also lain out, and Castiel plucked pieces of each, absentmindedly wafting the mint under his nose before he placed it into a mortar with the other herbs.

 

The now ground-down ingredients were carried to a cauldron over the fire, which sat in a hearth large enough for Castiel to step into without bending. Tendrils of steam fogged the tarnished metal of an ornamental cup set on the mantelpiece. Beside it the glass over a sketch became hazy with the breath of the mixing pot; it showed a portrait of a couple that Castiel had never met, lovingly encased in an expensive frame. Castiel sprinkled the herbs in before turning to wander back to the kettle.

 

With a steaming mug of tea, Castiel returned to the fire and folded himself into the armchair. The tea filled a warm spot inside him, but not the small, empty ache that was ever present. It sat somewhere beneath his ribs, and kissed the corners of his mouth into a stern line. It was an ache that called to be filled, perhaps by family, but his were long dead.

 

The young woman — who had been his saving grace after his escape by taking him in — had teased him for his perpetually stoic manner.

 

"You have two expressions," she'd said, the goading slant of her voice hooking him as she taught him how to crush the right herbs together. "Serious and confused."

 

"Well maybe more expression is superfluous," Castiel had said, watching closely as she brushed dandelion seeds into the cauldron.

 

"Oh and there's also that little frown.” She had smiled gently, and touched two fingers to the space between his brows.

 

She'd passed her role as herbalist and healer to the village as well as her home to him when she'd passed. Castiel had carved her name into her headstone himself, labouring over each letter.

 

Hannah. Hannah and her unending kindness.

 

She'd been a welcome warmth to his long abandoned heart, but Hannah had never been more than a deeply valued friend. Castiel had suspected that she might feel more for him, in the subtle smile that she reserved just for him, and the words that lingered unsaid behind hesitantly parted lips.

 

Coming round from his daze, Castiel lent forward and stirred the contents of the cauldron. He rose from his chair, and sipped his tea as he moved over to the cupboards beneath the work-surfaces. Several slender vials were extracted, before Castiel returned to the hearth. He plucked a brass funnel from where it rested on the broad mantelpiece, and ladled the steaming mixture from the cauldron into the vials. Clutching the now warm glass containers to his chest, he retreated to the study.

 

There was a calming rhythm to etching the labels out before folding the slips of paper around each vial. Sunlight filtered onto the desk in front of him, and Castiel let it warm the back of his hands. Remnants of Hannah were everywhere, her pen in the pot and the stained wood where she'd upset a bottle of ink. It was like she’d just stepped out and would return at any moment.

 

But she wouldn't, and the empty space that was just a little bit smaller with her there had yawned wider in Castiel's chest.

 

He was halfway through labelling the vials when there was a knock on the door. Castiel rose to his feet, pushing his hair back as he wondered which of his customers could need his attention. He sucked the ink-stain on his index finger as he wandered down the corridor, fumbling the key out of his pocket.

 

"Just a moment," he called as he slotted the key into the heavy lock he’d had put in.

 

"Good afternoon," he said, distracted as he pulled the door back.

 

"It's you," a voice breathed.

 

Castiel looked up sharply, and found himself face to face with the hunter he should have put an arrow in.

 

* * *

 

The next few moments were a blur. Castiel tried to slam the door closed, ears ringing as the hunter made some kind of protest and forced the door to stay open. Next Castiel was scrambling backwards, and the hunter was reaching out for him, making it easy to decide to haul the lawn out from under him.

 

The hunter let out a surprised shout as the ground beneath him shifted. Then there were vines from the wisteria growing over the door snaking out to hold him. Castiel wrapped one around his throat as well as his arms and legs, binding him tightly. The choked noises he was making were awful, green eyes wide as Castiel stepped out into the sunlight to loom over him.

 

Castiel’s entire world was shifting, a familiar feeling of helplessness slithering its way around his lungs. And it was just like he knew it would be; his haven never really safe, and his home never really sweet, not with Michael. And he could feel manacles and the claustrophobia, and he knew if he didn’t get a grip soon he was really going to panic.

 

_So get. A. Grip. Now._

 

"Why are you here?" Castiel was shaking, his hands balled into fists.

 

He cast wide eyes around his front garden, the rose bushes and lavender basking in the sun jarringly at odds with the situation.

 

"Does Michael know I'm here?" Castiel asked, voice breaking as he strained to see down the lane.

 

A choked gurgle was his response, and Castiel glanced back at the hunter, before loosening the vine around his throat.

 

The hunter gasped in a lungful of air before violently coughing, his face a dark red.

 

"I'm — f-fuck... I'm — not here — for Michael," the hunter spluttered.

 

Castiel tried to remember the look on the hunter's face when he'd turned away, all that time ago, after telling him to run. But the panic clawing at his chest didn’t abate, and it felt as though his heart was trying to climb out of his throat.

 

"I will kill anyone who tries to take me back there," Castiel said, and his voice was calmer than he’s really feeling, a stern gravel that cut through the hunter's attention and caused him to stop struggling against the vines to stare up at Castiel.

 

"And I believe you," the hunter rasped.

 

Castiel wasn't sure what made him release the man, but the hunter fell with a curse to the floor, before coughing violently and rolling onto his hands and knees. He was covered in a good deal of wisteria petals.

 

"Fucking hell," the hunter gasped out, resting his forehead against the back of his fist as he caught his breath.

 

Castiel drew a vine up and around his own wrist, his nails cutting into his palms as he stared down at the hunter. He was battling against his own panic. But there was also anger, ugly, jaw clenching anger.

 

“You have thirty seconds to tell me why you’re here,” Castiel said, voice low and his face eerily blank.

 

“Damn.” The hunter rolled into a sitting position, wiping his streaming eyes. “Listen I don’t know what you’re into buddy, but most people like to pick a safe word before they get started on that shit.”

 

Castiel whipped a vine around the hunter's chest, his lips pressed into a thin line as the man let out a surprised yelp at being yanked down again.

 

“Twenty-five seconds,” he growled.

 

“Alright! Jeez,” the hunter protested, looking infuriated that he’d been bested again. “I’m Nehrinian, okay? I’m not even from Anglestad, and I definitely wasn’t sent by that ass hat Michael.”

 

That’s interesting, Castiel mused. Why would someone from Nehrin come across the border?

 

The hunter let out a series of muttered curse words as he shot an angry glare at the vine around his chest.

 

“Damn it, would you let me go already?” he grunted, twisting his fist around his bonds.

 

Castiel released the vine, throwing a scathing glance at the hunter before scanning the lane beyond his garden. It wound away towards the village, the sloping rise on either side of it uninhabited save for Mrs Dufray’s goat, which surveyed the scene on Castiel’s lawn with a bored indifference as it chewed a mouthful of grass.

 

The hunter continued to mutter as he got to his feet, brushing himself down with sharp, irritable strokes.

 

“Show me you’re unarmed,” Castiel demanded, turning his steely gaze towards him.

 

“I _am_ armed,” the hunter retorted, throwing his hands up in exasperation and glaring at Castiel. “If I wanted to hurt you I would’ve done so.”

 

“Oh yes,” Castiel sneered. “I’m sure you’d have had me quite at odds from where you were writhing on the floor.”

 

“I swear if Naomi didn’t think you were so goddamn important—”

 

“Naomi’s alive?” Castiel cut through the hunter’s threat, taking two wide strides towards him.

 

The hunter ducked away from him, scowling as he rolled his eyes.

 

“Maybe if you’d let me talk,” he said. “You would know what was going on… Castiel.”

 

“Don’t call me that,” Castiel hissed, his eyes darting back to the empty lane over the hunter’s shoulder.

 

“Oh I’m sorry, _Emmanuel_ ,” the hunter scoffed. “Too busy hiding to know that the world is turning to shit?”

 

“The world was turning to shit long before I started calling myself Emmanuel,” Castiel retorted, throwing one last look towards the village. “And what is your name?”

 

“Dean,” the hunter said easily, plucking a piece of dirt off his sleeve and flicking it away.

 

“A pleasure,” Castiel sneered.

 

“Okay,” Dean nodded with a sarcastic smile. “You see this?”

 

He tugged down the collar of his shirt, revealing a tattoo of a star inside a circle etched on the freckled skin beneath his collarbone.

 

“Oh,” Castiel said, surprised enough to release the vines that had been hovering within reach. They regressed back to hang innocently around the front door, the wisteria flowers a little worse for wear and leaves slightly shredded.

 

"Yeah," huffed Dean. "Now can we talk without all the freakin' plant shit?"

 

"Of course," Castiel said, eyeing the mark of the Men Of Letters before Dean tugged his collar up over it.

 

Castiel shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, watching as Dean checked the knife strapped in the back of his waistband. The breeze pushed his light brown hair into disarray and tugged at his dark shirt, the sleeves of his leather jacket pushed up to show tanned and freckled forearms.

 

"Could've sliced my ass open," Dean grumbled under his breath as he removed the knife and strapped it to his thigh instead.

 

"Would you like to come inside?" Castiel offered, shifting his gaze away from Dean and brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his sleeve.

 

"Sure," Dean agreed begrudgingly, scowling as he marched straight past Castiel and into the house.

 

Castiel followed, subdued by the mark of the Men Of Letters but still on edge and annoyed. He threw one last look around the garden and its perimeter, before closing the door and firmly locking it.

 

Dean had found his way to the kitchen and planted himself at the table, giving the room a thorough once over with his gaze. Castiel noticed that he seemed to clock the exits, and had placed himself on the end of the bench near the back door.

 

"Have you got anything to drink?" Dean asked, shedding his leather jacket and rolling his neck. "Finding you has been a right son of a bitch."

 

"How did you find me?" Castiel asked, ignoring the request for a drink.

 

"I'm a hunter," Dean replied vaguely, wincing as he touched a hand to his throat.

 

Castiel rolled his eyes and moved to lean against the cupboards, folding his arms across his chest.

 

"If you found me, others can too," he pointed out. "And now I need to move."

 

He glared at Dean like this is his fault, which went thoroughly ignored as Dean frowned up at the herbs hanging above him.

 

"You need to move anyway," Dean replied. "Naomi wants you."

 

"Where is she?" Castiel asked, forgetting his irritation at the mention of an old ally.

 

“In Nehrin, with the army that’s amassing against Michael.” Dean folded his arms and rested his elbows on the table.

 

Castiel felt a small surge of hope, a little fire that he’d long kept smothered fluttering briefly in his chest. But then he quashed it, fixing Dean with a frown before crossing to the stove.

 

“Michael cannot be defeated,” he said bluntly, picking up the kettle to test its weight before placing it back down and lighting the fire.

 

“Hey if he can bleed we can take him,” Dean shrugged, scratching his chin as he eyed the tea Castiel was spooning into a strainer. “Oh and Naomi gave this to me for you.”

 

He removed a letter from the inside of his leather jacket and pushed it across the table towards Castiel. The tea abandoned, Castiel crossed the room quickly and snatched the letter up, checking Naomi’s seal before tearing it open.

 

_Castiel,_

 

_Dean has informed me of your escape, and I must say I’m impressed._

 

_You are needed in Nehrin, and I request that you accompany Dean here immediately. As I’m sure you can understand, you are one of the few people who can help us rally an army against Michael. You will add legitimacy to our claim and help us overthrow the king._

 

_Sincerely,_

 

_Naomi_

 

Castiel breathed deeply through his nose, folding the letter. Naomi, alive and still as brusque and straightforward as ever, even after fourteen years without word of Castiel’s survival. The letter added to the reasons to trust Dean, and Castiel let himself relax ever so slightly, although he stayed standing stiffly.

 

“Would you like some tea?” he asked quietly as he placed the letter back on the table.

 

“Nah I’m good,” Dean replied, watching him closely.

 

Castiel ignored his gaze and turned away to the stove, lost in thought as he poured steaming water into his mug. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked in the silence.

 

“How did you escape?” Dean burst out eventually. “Was it with that plant stuff, ‘cos that shit's cool as hell.”

 

“It was just luck,” Castiel replied, focusing on stirring his tea as he lent against the work-surface again. “One of the guards forgot to lock my quarters, well a better word would be cell, even if it did look like a regular room. It sounds unbelievable but human error can always be relied upon.”

 

Dean nodded eagerly.

 

“Sure, sure,” he said. “Bet you had to take some of them down on your way out though?”

 

“No,” Castiel shook his head. “Again, luck saw me make it to the wall unseen. I would not have been able to manipulate plant life had I encountered guards though, Mahai have to eat fruit to access their abilities.”

 

“You don’t say,” Dean’s eyebrows were raised as he considered this. “Man, Sammy would love this if he were here.” Dean said the last to himself and smiled fondly down at his hands.

 

Castiel watched him, blowing lightly on his tea as Dean’s expression turned sour. His face was so expressive, a hint of the fire that Castiel had glimpsed showing in the resolute set of his jaw, and the intense stare that he sometimes fixed upon him. Castiel could read pain, he’d seen enough of it, and he knew a soldier when he saw one, even one that had never been to war.

 

“When can we leave by?” Dean broke out of his reverie and turned to him, making Castiel look away sharply.

 

“I need to make some arrangements,” Castiel said, busying himself with pouring the remainder of his tea in the sink before ditching his mug.

 

“Okay, how’s first light in the morning?” Dean asked, and Castiel turned to see him scrutinising the light of the sky outside.

 

The afternoon was fading fast, painting a strip of the east wall a liquid gold.

 

Castiel nodded in agreement and Dean stood, the bench scraping backwards over the floor as he gathered his jacket.

 

“I saw an inn in the village, you can find me there if you need me,” he stated, shrugging his jacket on.

 

Castiel was about to offer him the spare room, but quickly closed his mouth as he thought better of it.

 

“Okay,” Castiel agreed, and his voice was quiet.

 

Perhaps he should have been more excited at the prospect; someone he could trust was alive, an army was amassing in the North to take on Michael’s claim of the capital, and there was a chance he could help.

 

But something inside him was twisting, and Castiel felt suddenly very small. He supposed that the prospect of such an adventure may turn others into heroes. But he just felt tired, weary of politics and the threat of the king.

 

Dean paused in the process of turning out the collar of his jacket. He looked away for a moment, his brow furrowed as he dropped his hands.

 

“Hey, y’know what?” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. “I actually don’t sleep all that much, maybe it’s all the freakin’ sneaking around that I have to do. Could I maybe just chill in your armchair? You’d be doing me a favour, man.”

 

Castiel tilted his head to the side, fixing Dean with a curious look. It seemed as though Dean was trying to be of comfort, although why he’d do that for a complete stranger was beyond Castiel. Dean’s eyes flicked up briefly to meet his, before he looked away again, rubbing a hand across his lips. And then Castiel knew that comfort was exactly what Dean was trying to be.

 

His shoulders relaxed, and he gave Dean the closest thing to a smile he ever achieved these days, his lips quirking ever so slightly at the corners.

 

“Of course, Dean,” he said.

 

Dean fixed him with a smile so warm that it made something curl inside his stomach.

  
“Besides,” Dean replied, his tone teasing. “Surely a prince should have a bodyguard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop! I'm back! With more fantasy and less fucks given than ever before! Not less fucks in the fic, there'll be plenty of fucks in the fic, my dude.  
> ANYWAY, let me know what you think, comments and feedback always very much appreciated!


	2. Chapter Two

Morning found Dean asleep in the kitchen armchair, despite his claim that he didn't need it. His mouth was wide open and one side of his slack face had an imprint of the chair's stitching. Castiel watched him from where he was leant against the work-surface, tea in hand.

 

He tapped his fingers against the side of his mug and considered the hunter. From what Castiel could tell from the short amount of time he’d had to study him yesterday, Dean was fiercely protective of his brother, had an impressive and frequently referenced knowledge of popular culture, and had a hard front that was composed mainly of scowling and sarcasm.

 

But he was also highly animated, as quick to laugh as he was to frown. Castiel had let his jokes and chatter wash over him whilst they’d eaten supper together. It had been nice, not only having someone to share a meal with, but listening to the conversation of a man with such a lust for life, when Castiel's own had been so empty.

 

Dean had revealed that his brother, Sam, had been taken from a Men Of Letters safe house close to the border.

 

“It was in a risky position as it was,” Dean said, and Castiel could see the anger and pain in him as he spoke. “But Sam said he was onto something and he'd be back soon. I had a mission up north, so didn't go with him…”

 

There was aching regret in his voice and Castiel hadn’t pushed the subject.

 

He'd also discovered what Dean had been doing wearing the crest of the king.

 

“There were rumours you were alive,” Dean had said, giving Castiel another impressed glance. “Naomi had a few of us undercover in the area to do some digging. I happened to have managed to get recruited as a mercenary hunter for the king when you escaped, and was instructed to follow the other guards to recapture you, but obviously that's not why I went. I thought I'd have to fight our way out, didn't think your chances of outrunning horses on foot was very strong… proved me wrong didn't you?”

 

The grin Dean had given him when he'd said this still warmed Castiel as he stood there considering him in the morning light.

 

Dean shifted, letting out a groan, and Castiel quickly busied himself with finding a chopping board in the cupboard.

 

"Mornin'" Dean mumbled from behind him, his greeting stuttering out into a yawn.

 

"Good morning," Castiel replied. "Did you sleep well?"

 

He wasn’t sure what to do other than make small talk, but decided it was better than awkward silence.

 

"Like a big drugged baby," Dean said, standing up to stretch and crack his back.

 

Castiel placed the chopping board, a loaf of bread, and a pot of honey on the table. Dean ambled over, scratching his stomach and surveying the spread through sleep fogged eyes.

 

"Were you watching me sleep? 'Cos that gives me the heebies," Dean said, not looking up as he placed himself at the table.

 

Castiel froze, his mouth opening and closing, silent until Dean looked up at him and chuckled.

 

"Chill, man, I'm kidding." Dean grinned, his voice morning rough.

 

"Oh," Castiel said, and promptly turned away, cheeks flushed.

 

He made more noise than necessary getting the plates out, and then busied himself with cutting the bread when he sat back down.

 

"So, not exactly the crack of dawn but good enough," Dean commented, eyeing the clock on Castiel's mantle, which read ten past eight.

 

"I've made suitable arrangements for my property whilst I'm gone," Castiel said. "The Dufray's boy is happy to tend to the hives as I told him he can keep whatever profit he makes."

 

"Hives?" Dean asked, brow furrowing. "As in bee hives?"

 

"Yes," Castiel replied, pouring out a glass of apple juice and passing it to Dean, who accepted it whilst still staring at Castiel. "I keep bees and they make the honey I sell to the village. It's not a big project, just something to keep myself amused mostly."

 

"Dude you are not at all what I imagined," Dean stated, shaking his head as he spread the aforementioned honey on his bread.

 

"And what precisely did you imagine?" Castiel asked, narrowing his eyes at the hunter.

 

"Nothing bad," Dean said quickly. "Just... Something more... Princely," he finished lamely.

 

"I haven't been a prince for fourteen years, and I was never very good at it before that," Castiel stated, taking a bite of his bread.

 

"Hey man, I think that's a good thing," Dean shrugged. "Don't get me wrong your old man wasn't so bad but royals... I'm sorry, I —"

 

Dean broke off, looking slightly horrified at himself. Castiel looked up, surprised at Dean's discomfort. He'd been so used to others talking about his father since his passing that a compliment to his reign had only registered as positive.

 

"It's fine, Dean," Castiel said matter of factly, breezing over the mention of his dead father. “He was a good king, but you’re right. Royals are… untrustworthy.”

 

Dean let out a bark of laughter which took Castiel by surprise.

 

“That’s the understatement of the century,” Dean chuckled darkly. “Look at Michael.”

 

“Yes,” Castiel agreed, tearing his bread into chunks. “My uncle has been an ambitious and conniving man for as long as I’ve known him.”

 

Castiel dipped his bread into the pool of honey at the edge of his plate and popped it into his mouth. He looked up to see Dean staring at him, his lips slightly parted and his brow furrowed.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked roughly, having paused his own enthusiastic chewing to watch Castiel.

 

Castiel looked down at his plate, and then back up at Dean in confusion.

 

“Eating,” he supplied, nonplussed.

 

“Why don’t you put the honey on your bread first?” Dean made a chopping motion with his hand towards the aforementioned ingredients.

 

“I have a preference for this way of eating,” Castiel replied, somewhat tartly, and resumed dipping his bread into his honey.

 

Dean looked like he was going to say something else, but then just pursed his lips and shook his head.

 

Breakfast passed without mention of Castiel’s eating habits after that. Dean was more interested in quizzing Castiel about his escape again. There wasn’t much more to tell than what Castiel had already revealed, but Dean was fascinated all the same. He only let the subject drop when Castiel stretched out a hand, and a series of potted plants extended their vines and stems over from the window sill, where they sat basking in the sunlight.

 

“Awesome,” Dean muttered, a lopsided grin carving a dimple in his cheek as he watched the plants crawl over the tabletop to get to Castiel.

 

Castiel’s well practiced fingers flickered through the leaves. He collected the flowers, seed heads and pods of some, whilst others he just gave a careful once over for signs of fungus or bugs.

 

“These could come in handy,” Castiel muttered, pocketing what he’d collected from the plants. The plants themselves inched back over the tabletop towards their pots, curling around bits of bread as they went to take back to their soil.

 

Dean helped as Castiel gathered the plates up and dumped them in the sink. Then he abandoned them and headed into the hall.

 

“What’re you gonna do with those plant bits?” Dean asked, following as Castiel entered his bedroom, although he quickly stepped back and placed himself respectfully in the doorway when he realised where they were.

 

“They have medicinal properties,” Castiel explained, opening his wardrobe and dragging a sturdy canvas backpack down from the topshelf. “Along with some other uses.”

 

“Surely you don’t need to bring stuff with you though,” Dean said eagerly, forgetting his respectful distance and stepping fully into the room. “I mean you can make plants do whatever you want, you could just, I dunno, call some medicinal ones to you, right?”

 

Castiel gave a tight lipped smile as he unfastened the buckles of his backpack and put it on the bed.

 

“Not if there are no medicinal plants in the near vicinity,” Castiel pointed out, turning back to the wardrobe to grab a couple of sensible changes of clothes and an extra pair of shoes.

 

Dean nodded and crossed his arms.

 

“Well it’ll probably be rough, so maybe it’s best you bring some stuff.” Dean scratched his chin, looking around the room. “I mean I won’t let anything bad happen to you but—”

 

“Excuse me,” Castiel interrupted, dropping his hairbrush, toothbrush, and soap in on top of his clothes. “You won’t let anything bad happen to me? Which of us is a fully fledged Mahai?”

 

“Alright, jeez,” Dean held up his hands and rolled his eyes. “I just meant my brother and I have seen some shit that’d make your highness faint, so—”

 

Dean was cut off by Castiel slamming the heavy book he’d been holding down onto the side table.

 

“Oh have you now?” Castiel said coolly.

 

Dean raised his eyebrows.

 

“Dude, I’m a freakin’ hunter,” Dean shrugged smugly. “I’ve seen way more freaky stuff than any one person should, and beaten it… just like I will find a way to beat your plant thing.” Dean muttered the last, looking away with an amused arch to his eyebrows.

 

Castiel stepped up very close to Dean, who looked slightly taken aback by his sudden nearness.

 

“Will you… boy?” Castiel said coolly, cocking his head and fixing Dean with an icy stare. “How?”

 

Dean pursed his lips.

 

“I don’t know yet,” he said huffily. “But hell it’ll bug me until I figure it out so you can bet that I won’t drop it.”

 

Dean met Castiel’s cold stare with his own stubborn glare. This close up, Castiel could see the little flecks of gold that circled Dean’s irises, which were dilated in the soft light of the bedroom.

 

Castiel suddenly realised how close they were, and turned away hastily, catching Dean’s glare fade into a look of surprise as he realised the same thing.

 

“I thought you ‘weren’t going to let anything happen to me’” Castiel sneered as he strode back to the bed.

 

“Yeah well I may be fucking tested,” Dean muttered darkly from behind him.

 

Castiel ignored this. He continued throwing items into his bag, and after a moment of silence he heard Dean let out a huff of irritation and stomp off down the hall towards the kitchen.

 

Castiel paused, his hand on the buckle of his bag, breathing heavy and his heart thumping in his chest. Although aggravating, there was something undeniably thrilling about arguing with Dean. This was odd, as Castiel didn’t usually relish conflict. He wondered if it was perhaps because of some lingering fondness for the lively debates of courtiers he’d witnessed as a boy.

 

Or was it simply that Castiel hadn’t had such stimulating conversation in years? Even Hannah, whilst kind and good, had never had the thrilling meanstreak that Dean wielded without it ever really feeling malicious.

 

Yes, Castiel decided. That felt more likely. He had no desire to be surrounded by two faced politicians again. It must be the challenge of the conversation.

 

But somehow it didn’t feel that simple, a fact that niggled at Castiel’s mind as he finished fastening his bag.

 

Five minutes later, Dean was striding off down the garden path ahead of him. Castiel paused to lock his front door and stash the key under the matt for the Dufray's son. As he straightened, he brushed his hand over the wisteria growing around the door. Castiel smiled, drawing on it to wrap around his palm, his thumb rubbing over one of the leaves.

 

Then he turned, and followed Dean down the path without looking back.

 

The day was warm, sunlight falling dappled across the dirt path that the pair of them were winding their way down. Soon Castiel’s sleeves were pushed up to his elbows and Dean’s leather jacket was slung over his shoulder, his tan arms catching more sun in his black t-shirt.

 

Castiel didn’t say much, Dean filling some silences with general chatter and jokes, but stopped when he realised that Castiel wasn’t in the mood to talk. Castiel’s mind was on the road, and everything that lay beyond it.

 

So it took him by surprise when Dean swiped him on the shoulder.

 

“You’re cheery to walk with,” Dean said sarcastically, giving that lopsided grin when Castiel blinked around dazedly.

 

“Hm? Oh... well, it’s warm,” Castiel said lamely.

 

“Mhmm,” Dean hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Wanna talk about it, man?”

 

“No,” Castiel said shortly, eyes fixed firmly ahead, watching a little flurry of dirt get swept up from the path.

 

“Hey I get ya,” Dean said, holding his hands up. “Sammy was always the one who was better at the soppy shit, but… y’know... throw it at me if you want to.”

 

Castiel carried on in silence for awhile. Dean hummed, and Castiel realised that it was nice. The noise of another human being, even just the occasional sigh or rustle of clothing. The noises clicked across to somewhere inside him, tugging some sense of comfort out from where it had been lying dormant.

 

“What’s it all like?” Castiel asked after a while, immediately realising how vague his question was.

 

“What’s what like?” Dean replied quickly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth at Castiel’s floundering, but eagerness in his eyes.

 

“The… I suppose the world, the politics of it, Naomi, all the things I’ve been avoiding…” Castiel trailed off, watching his feet scuff the dirt path.

 

“Hm, well it’s sure as shit busier and dirtier than that cottage you’ve been living in,” Dean shrugged. “I dunno, man, it’s…blurry. I’m not one for politics or subtlety, so I’ve avoided that. I’m more of a shoot it rather than debate with it type of guy, can’t stand people who won’t just say exactly what they mean...”

 

He trailed off, frowning, apparently lost in thought, probably remembering just such a person. Castiel let him muse for a moment, before he interrupted with more questions.

 

“So this — I suppose resistance is the best word for it — what’s it like? What does it do?” Castiel asked, his gravely voice keen with interest.

 

Dean glanced sideways at him, a conspiratorial smirk on his face.

 

“Well it’s big, we’ve got a large network now,” Dean said proudly. “It’s not only people from Anglestad that are feeling the weight of the ass hat’s regime, it’s us Nehrinians too.”

 

“So the resistance is based in Nehrin?” Castiel asked. He already knew this from what Dean had told him, but he was trying to get a picture of just how far their influence spread.

 

“Yep,” Dean said, kicking a stone and making it skitter off the path. “But we’ve got people in Anglestad too, got a lot of respect for them.”

 

Dean glanced up as the tall pines lining the path opened out a bit to reveal a valley ahead, its sweeping grasses scudded with the shadows of clouds as the fluffy giants drifted lazily in the sky above.

 

“They’re undercover, like I was, and there’s only so much protection we can offer them,” Dean continued. “If they get caught, it would be difficult to rescue them without exposing more of our spies you see. We’ve have lost some, got others back too, but they’re risking everything for the resistance.”

 

Dean looked wistfully proud, a determined set to his jaw as he thought of his allies.

 

“Lost some?” Castiel repeated. “So Michael knows? About the resistance I mean.”

 

“‘Course he knows,” Dean spat, looking sour. “The evil old dick is suspicious of his own mother, of course he’s got spies and sources of information. This is not a war being fought in the open… not yet,” he finished darkly.

 

They walked on in silence for a while, watching the valley approach as the trees thinned on either side of them. The ground started to tilt downhill, their feet sending pebbles rolling off down the slope as they went.

 

“What’s our route?” Castiel asked, suddenly aware that, with the surprise of finding out about Naomi and the resistance, he hadn’t even thought to ask how they were getting to the border.

 

“Offroad mostly,” Dean replied, adjusting his jacket so that it was wedged between his back and his bag rather than hanging off his shoulder. “Have to avoid big towns and cities. You might be older than when people last saw you, but you’re still recognisable. We can’t risk it. But we will have stop points between here and the border, connections I know, who we can pick up supplies from.”

 

“Connections?” Castiel asked. There was a note of suspicion in his deep voice. Dean might’ve been safe from others’ temptation to betray their allegiances for the chance to get in good with the king, but Castiel himself would be a prize worth turning traitor for. Unless Michael had kept his escape secret, as he had Castiel’s entire existence after he usurped his brother, then Castiel would bet there was a reward for handing him over to the king.

 

“They’re trustworthy,” Dean said, and there was a soft note in his voice as he detected Castiel’s concern. He watched Castiel with an intense look, and Castiel met it for a moment, before looking away.

 

“Yes but has Michael shared my escape?” Castiel asked, apparently to his shoes as he stared down at them. “If he has there’s got to be a reward for—”

 

“They’re trustworthy,” Dean repeated firmly, and Castiel’s gaze flickered back up to him. “They hate Michael, no amount of gold can change that.”

 

Castiel stared into those green pools for a moment, reading Dean’s defiance, but also that softness in him as he sensed Castiel’s worry.

 

It was difficult to release the knot of unease around his heart, it’d been sitting there ever since his parents died and Castiel learnt the true weight of power and loyalty. But he tried to calm it, deciding that some causes, and some people, were worth the risk of trusting.

  
He nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a filler chapter, sorry, more tomorrow. Still worth kudos, amirite?!  
> SHOUT OUT TO MAGGIE FOR HER (I assume you're a girl) AMAZING WORDS OF ENCOURAGEMENT ALL THE LOOOOOVE.  
> FELLAS, if you spot any inconsistencies in the tense let me know. I wrote the first couple of chapters in present tense but that's a bitch to write in so swapped to past. I think I've caught them all but if you spot an awkward sentence please let me know, danke.


	3. Chapter Three

By the time Castiel fell into a sitting position on his bedroll, he was exhausted. They’d walked all day, not even stopping when the light started to fade from the sky.

 

Dean had insisted that they try to cover as much ground as possible, and Castiel couldn’t help agreeing with him. So he’d ignored the growing ache in his legs, and stopped only briefly to bandage the blisters that had appeared on his feet.

 

He watched through a haze of numb exhaustion as Dean bustled around making camp. The sky above was scattered with many stars, their brilliance unmarred by any light pollution from nearby towns, as there _were_ no nearby towns. They were completely out in the wild of the countryside, which for Anglestad, was pretty wild. They’d left behind the gentle hills that Castiel’s village had been nestled among, and were now between cragged, rocky hills, hinting at nearby mountains as they stretched towards the starry heavens. Their bare peaks, black silhouettes against the sky, sloped down to where heather and grasses were able to get a hold in the valley between them.

 

The brightness of a full moon was enough for Castiel to be able to pick out the cotton grasses around them, their fluffy white heads dancing gently in the wind. The ground beneath them was soft, thanks to a good layer of moss that covered the clearing in the heather that they’d settled in.

 

Dean had been steadily collecting firewood over the last few hours as they went. He had now arranged this into a little pile on a bed of rocks, and was holding his lighter to a dry clump of grasses in his hand.

 

After a moment, the dry grass caught, and Dean tucked it into a space between the logs. Castiel watched him, his gaze unfocused, as Dean bent to blow on the fire, encouraging the smaller sticks to catch.

 

“There,” Dean said after a while, looking pleased as he settled back on the heels of his feet and stared down at the fire he’d made.

 

Then he looked around, and saw Castiel watching him.

 

“You look as though you’re about to pass out, man,” Dean laughed.

 

“It’s been awhile since I walked so far,” Castiel said, suppressing a yawn as he spoke.

 

“Well there’s plenty more to look forward to,” Dean said, slapping his hands on his thighs before rising and going to his pack.

 

Castiel stayed silent as Dean unpacked some food parcels and brought them back over to the fire.

 

“We’ll have to use the perishables first,” he said conversationally, as he unwrapped two pastries from the brown paper. “After that it’ll be the few tins I brought along until we can stop to resupply.”

 

Castiel didn’t reply, instead stifling another yawn behind his hand.

 

A few minutes later, and they were eating in silence. Well, mostly silence. Dean was doing his usual chatter, needing little input from Castiel, just the occasional nod, or murmur of agreement.

 

It wasn’t that Castiel didn’t find Dean’s conversation uninteresting, quite the contrary. But he could barely keep his eyes open, let alone chat. So he steadily worked through the pastry — which had turned out to be a sort of pasty with meat and spices in — in a contented silence.

 

When he was finished, he stared into the fire, the brown paper clasped gently in his lap.

 

It was Dean’s touch that brought him round. He started as he felt fingers on his hand, prizing the empty paper from it gently.

 

“Hey, man,” Dean said softly, “you should probably get some sleep.”

 

Castiel looked up at Dean where he was crouched beside him, having apparently approached completely unnoticed by Castiel. After a moment, Castiel nodded.

 

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Sleep would be good.”

 

Dean smiled warmly at him, and Castiel couldn’t help the little jolt his heart gave at having another human actually look at him properly, and with something like friendly affection on their face.

 

“You’ve got…” Dean trailed off, having raised a hand to brush pastry crumbs from Castiel’s lips.

 

Castiel froze, at the same time as Dean realised what he was doing and did the same, his fingers stopping still on Castiel’s lower lip.

 

They stared at each other in surprise for a fleeting moment, before Dean snatched his hand away, coughing as he stood up so abruptly that he nearly kneed Castiel in the face.

 

“Sorry,” Dean said, gruffly. “Guess I’ve gotten used to travelling with my brother.”

 

Dean forced out a laugh, which Castiel noticed was a little strangled.

 

“Far too friendly, sorry, must be all the mothering I do of Sam.” Dean let out another awkward laugh, and Castiel found amusement forcing its way through the surprise of finding Dean’s fingers on his lips.

 

He’d never seen the hunter so flustered. He caught a glimpse of the flush appearing on Dean’s cheeks, before he turned away sharply and busied himself with burning his own and Castiel’s food paper in the fire.

 

“It’s alright,” Castiel said quietly after a moment. “I suspect it’s very nice having someone you can be so comfortable with… I don’t think I’d ever accidentally be so free with someone.”

 

The last part of Castiel’s sentence was said so quietly that he doubted Dean heard it. But his companion turned, the flush on his cheeks gone and replaced by a look of concern, illuminated by the firelight.

 

“You don’t have… anyone?” Dean said carefully, looking down into the fire beside him.

 

“No,” Castiel said shortly, and busied himself with opening out his bedroll so he could climb into it.

 

There was a moment’s silence, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the gentle whisper of the wind through the grasses.

 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dean said after a while.

 

He didn’t move as Castiel settled himself into his bedroll, the edge pulled right up to his chin, instead staying crouched by the fireside.

 

“That must be… lonely,” Dean continued quietly.

 

Castiel shrugged, his shoulders bulky with the thick bedroll.

 

“It is what it is,” he said lightly, defiantly ignoring the pang that came from that hollow space in his chest. “My family are all dead. But I guess now I have a way to avenge them, if I’m catching Naomi’s meaning right.”

 

He looked up to Dean, who’s carefully blank expression had shifted into a scowl.

 

“Yes you’ll be given that chance,” he agreed. “But don’t, y’know… let it become all you are.”

 

Castiel frowned at Dean, confused. Dean was rising and crossing to his own bedroll on the other side of the fire.

 

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked.

 

“Well, y’know,” Dean carried on, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Don’t let your hate for Michael become all what you’re about. I know I don’t really have the right to tell you how to feel,” he said this last part hurriedly, seeing Castiel open his mouth. “But I can tell you that it doesn’t help, man, the revenge I mean.”

 

Dean tugged off his boots and leaned across to chuck another log onto the fire, which crackled happily and threw up a whirl of sparks.

 

“It just turns you sour inside,” Dean continued. “Turns your perception funny, makes you bitter and suspicious, I’d hate… I’d hate to see that happen to you when you join the resistance and have a way of getting your revenge.”

 

Castiel didn’t speak, watching Dean as he climbed into his bedroll.

 

“Well… thanks for the advice,” said Castiel after a moment. “I’ll… I guess I’ll try to follow it.”

 

With that he turned over, his back to Dean, who had opened his mouth to say something else. And the silence fell again.

 

Castiel couldn’t help feeling slightly annoyed at Dean. He appreciated what he’d been trying to say, even found his concern quite nice. But he didn’t know. Castiel clenched a fistful of bedroll and pressed his cheek hard into the cloth beneath his head.

 

Dean couldn’t know what it felt like to have your whole family taken from you. Sure, he’d hinted at needing to seek revenge, touched on a troubled past. But he didn’t know what it was like to have no one. To have everyone you loved ripped from you, by someone who was supposed to _be_ family. To have an imprisonment so dark that it took any light from you, and to flee to freedom, to grasp at those last shreds of hope and strength, only to find that the yawning grief still followed you, still ate at you from that awful emptiness in your chest.

 

Castiel slapped the bedroll away from where he’d had it clutched to his chest, suddenly finding it confining. He glared off into the darkness.

 

No, he thought, Dean didn’t get it.

 

But he had tried to, said another voice in Castiel’s head. He’d not only recognised the pain Castiel carried with him, he’d tried to sooth it.

 

Castiel could see that, even in his annoyance at Dean. Even though he barely knew the man. But that was it too wasn’t it? He barely knew Dean, and still the hunter sought to be a source of comfort.

 

Castiel felt the furrows smooth from his brow as he relaxed slightly. Yes, he had to give Dean credit for trying. Afterall, it had been so long since someone had really tried at all.

 

And with that bittersweet and confusing thought on his mind, Castiel fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Castiel woke sharply to the sound of metal clattering against metal. He blinked around blearily, and found a stormy sky, quite different from yesterday’s, and daylight startling his eyes.

 

He rolled over to see Dean crouched over the now dead fire, his teeth gritted and looking guiltily over at him.

 

“Sorry,” Dean said, clutching a metal pan and spoon. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

“S’alright,” Castiel said thickly, his muscles still sleep drunk as he rolled onto his back.

 

He stretched, arching his back as he groaned and pushed his hands into his hair. Whilst he’d been warm enough overnight, he seemed to have developed cramp in one side from sleeping on the ground, soft as it was.

 

Castiel looked back over to Dean, to see him staring at him, his mouth slightly slack.

 

“What?” Castiel asked, a hand automatically going to his face to see if there was something on it.

 

“Nothing,” Dean said hurriedly, looking away quickly. “You just… put on quite a show.”

 

Dean laughed, in spite of the flush that had reappeared on his cheeks.

 

“What?” Castiel said again, completely at a loss for what Dean’s slight embarrassment and amusement was over.

 

“All your… stretching,” Dean said, then laughed again, apparently having completely gotten over his embarrassment.

 

“My stretching?” repeated Castiel, still confused.

 

“Yeah,” Dean said, prodding the fire vigorously and flashing a smile at Castiel. “And your moaning. It’s a good show, man.”

 

Castiel sat up, still frowning and no closer to understanding what Dean was getting at. Then it dawned on him.

 

“Dean are you… are you gay?”

 

Dean barked out a laugh, finally succeeding in getting the fire to take to the new logs with another good prod of the embers.

 

“Not strictly, no,” Dean said, grinning. “I swing both ways I suppose.”

 

He said it so casually that Castiel was astonished.

 

Castiel had grown up in a world in which tradition and a need for strict adherence to social norms was a must in order to avoid scandal. True, the court had become more progressive under the rule of his father, the need to become more accepting a necessity to stay popular amongst the people of the land a factor, as well as his father’s own views. But that didn’t stop people fearing the whispers of others, didn’t stop them hiding their true selves for fear of falling out of popularity.

 

“So you’re… bi?” Castiel asked, testing the word on his tongue.

 

Dean laughed again.

 

“I suppose,” he agreed, digging two thin metal poles into the ground either side of the fire. “But I don’t really think of it like that. I just… see what I like and go for it. I suppose promiscuous is a better description of what I am.”

 

Castiel sat staring at Dean, the bedroll gathered around his hips where it had fallen away from his chest. After a moment Dean looked up at him.

 

“What?” Dean asked, then something flickered over his face. “Is that a problem?”

 

“No!” said Castiel, alarmed. “Of course not, I just… have never met someone so open about it.”

 

“Yes well,” Dean huffed, looking slightly annoyed by all the attention his love life was receiving. “You grew up around ice people.”

 

“Ice people?” Castiel repeated, a laugh surprised out of him.

 

“Yeah, ice people,” Dean said again. “Those courtiers they’re so… well they’ve all got sticks up their butts.”

 

“Not all of them,” Castiel said, not sure why he was defending a group of people of whom many had taken on Michael’s leadership without question.

 

“Okay maybe not,” Dean said fairly, hanging the pan from the pole he’d balanced between the ones dug into the ground. “I suppose you can’t judge all of them. But they do cater to it, you can’t deny that.”

 

“Okay fair,” Castiel agreed, kicking his bedroll off himself and standing up. “But only because they have to, in order to maintain their place in court.”

 

“And therefore they feed into the whole vicious circle,” Dean said, somewhat triumphantly as he dug a little sack out of his bag.

 

“Yes I suppose so,” Castiel agreed, trying to flatten his crumpled clothes and his unruly hair, which as usual sprang back into a messy mop on his head. “That’s why I never would have been able to come out to more people than my family, had I stayed in court and not been imprisoned of course.”

 

Dean dropped the canteen of water which he’d just opened. He hurried to pick it up before more water could slosh out onto the ground.

 

“You’re…” he started, looking up at Castiel in surprise.

 

“Gay? Yes,” Castiel finished for him.

 

It was quite exhilarating, being so open and upfront with Dean. Castiel could feel his heart thumping in his chest, and goosebumps were breaking out over his arms. The wind pushed its way through Castiel’s hair and tugged at his clothing now that he was standing up. It was stronger than yesterday, teaming with the sky to hint at a brewing storm.

 

He wasn’t sure what had made him blurt it out to Dean like that. Perhaps because he’d never really had the chance to come out, as he’d said. He only fully realised he was gay after his escape. A definite lack of human contact whilst he went through puberty had meant that he only had a vague idea of what the desire to have a man hold him had meant. He’d lain in his cell, and when he wasn’t missing his family, he was thinking what it would be like to have someone touch him. Properly touch him.

 

But without any context, without even seeing others have romantic relationships nevermind experience his own, the image of himself with a man had felt sort of flat. Escaping and living with Hannah, meeting people from the village, becoming part of a community full of families and happy relationships, had finally put things into place in his mind. Castiel supposed discovering this in his mid-twenties was quite late compared to some. But again, total separation from compassionate company had a tendency to delay some things.

 

“Well that’s… cool,” Dean said lamely, before busying himself with opening the sack he’d pulled from his bag and pouring some outs out from it into the pan over the flames. “Good for you, man.”

 

Castiel laughed.

 

“What?” Dean asked, looking slightly offended as his gaze shifted back to Castiel.

 

“Thanks for the words of encouragement,” Castiel chuckled. “Very stirring.”

 

“Hey I’m trying to be nice,” Dean huffed, now pouring water onto the oats in the pan.

 

“I know,” Castiel replied, still grinning. “Thank you.”

 

Dean looked back up from the pan, and he too broke into a grin.

 

“Hey I think that’s the first proper smile I’ve seen from you,” he said, grabbing the metal spoon and stirring what was now porridge in the pan.

 

“I smile,” Castiel retorted, slightly affronted.

 

He stomped over to his bag and dug around inside it.

 

“Yeah but not like, properly,” Dean explained. “I mean it always looks like it sort of costs you something. That one was genuine.”

 

“Well how very touching,” Castiel said cooly, straightening with a bar of soap in his hand. “We’ll have to find a way of marking the occasion.”

 

“Oh don’t be a dick,” Dean said, still grinning. “Come have some breakfast you grumpy idiot.”

 

“Charming,” Castiel replied, but came and sat down next to the fire anyway, abandoning his plans to wash in favour of food.

 

Dean ladled them both out porridge into metal bowls and they ate. The morning’s revelations and teasing had opened them up for light chatter, Dean making jokes and pulling actual laughs from Castiel, which he looked as pleased by as he had at Castiel’s “genuine” smile.

 

Castiel managed to wash with his clothes on, not minding that he got his top a bit wet, and deciding that anything below his belt could wait until they reached an area with more cover than this very open valley. Dean was apparently less prudish, and stripped off to the waist with a flourish, which made Castiel’s face burn scarlet as he quickly turned away. He couldn’t help noticing that Dean was very… firm. Muscles obviously honed by hunting and a life on the road were taught along Dean’s stomach, Castiel catching sight of the way they defined his hip bones and dipped into a V above the waistline of Dean’s jeans.

 

It was when Castiel heard the unmistakable sound of Dean’s belt and zipper being undone that he started to be very loud and fussy with the way he was packing up his things. Only when he was absolutely sure that Dean was reclothed did he risk turning around.

 

Dean wasn’t looking at him, instead he was looking up at the sky and eyeing the valley ahead.

 

“Doesn’t look like we’ll be able to sleep out in the open tonight,” Dean said, shouldering his pack and turning to face Castiel.

 

“No,” Castiel agreed, glancing up at the dark sky but barely seeing it, still being quite flustered by Dean’s bathing routine.

 

They set off shortly after. They couldn’t talk much, as they were starting to climb and their breath was best saved. As the morning wore on, the landscape continued to become less tame. Any vestige of gentle, picturesque hills was ripped away, as the drops into valleys became steeper, and the rock faces higher. Around midday, the taught hum of energy that had been in the air since they awoke finally broke, and rain started to pour.

 

“Fantastic,” Dean muttered, turning the collar of his hood up against the wind.

 

Castiel, who’d had the foresight to bring a jacket with a hood, suggested that they find shelter until the rain stopped.

 

“Nah,” said Dean, squinting upwards against the rain. “This looks like it won’t stop for a while, we need to carry on. But we’re coming to the mountains now and there’s bound to be a cave or something to take shelter in tonight, so we can dry off then.”

 

If Castiel had found walking yesterday tiring, it was nothing compared to today. Although his jacket was waxed to be waterproof the rain soon soaked through it and his jeans, which not only made him uncomfortable, but also weighed him down. What’s more the incline of their chosen path was definitely getting steeper now. Castiel’s thighs burned with the effort as they climbed for hours, his head down and his breathing coming out in sharp gasps.

 

It took awhile for Dean to notice that Castiel was a bit of a mess. When he did it was past midday.

 

“We should stop,” Dean said, sounding like he was barely out of breath at all and throwing Castiel a worried glance. “Have something to eat.”

 

Castiel caught up to him, having fallen a few paces behind.

 

“Okay,” Castiel said between deep breaths. “Where?”

 

Dean turned to look around. They’d come to a stop between two peaks. The path between them was quite narrow in comparison to the sweeping valley they’d started the day in. Sheer rock walls rose on either side of them, and Castiel glanced up slightly worried, realising that this was exactly the sort of place rockfalls occurred.

 

“I’ve seen signs of ruins along the path,” Dean said, his voice slightly muffled by a blast of wind that was intensified by being pushed up through the narrow space. “If we carry on, I’m sure we’ll either find a cave, or maybe some old settlements.”

 

Castiel, who’d been oblivious to any sign of ruins having been concentrating so hard on walking, nodded.

 

So they carried on, Dean now making sure he paced himself to be level with Castiel, and could keep an eye on him.

 

“I’m fine,” Castiel assured him, after receiving another worried glance. “Just not used to it. Maybe all this walking will make me less of a skinny shrimp.”

 

Dean laughed, his face shining with rain water, which had painted his hair a darker shade of blonde. Castiel watched the progression of a bead of water as Dean turned his head to look at the path. The droplet slipped from Dean’s hairline down the back of his neck, over the freckled skin to the collar of the leather jacket. Castiel caught a light scent of the wet leather on the air as Dean shifted to hold a hand over his eyes, squinting against the downpour.

 

“I think I see something,” Dean said, his voice snatched by the wind again. “Yes, there.”

 

Castiel turned to look ahead, rain dripping from his own hood in thick strands. There was an opening. The path had taken several sharp turns along the way to naturally follow the gap between the rock walls. But this turn looked manmade. Off the main line of the path, a space opened on the right up ahead. Around the gentle curve of the corner, Castiel could see that the ground sloped upwards slightly, and what looked like stairs had been carved up the short incline to an opening in the rock face.

 

They hurried towards it, Castiel blinking rainwater out of his eyes to look up at the fissure. It was a dark crack in the otherwise sheer grey rock. It looked mercifully dry. They climbed the steps, Castiel almost slipping on the wet stone, and entered the cave.

 

The noise of the wind dropped instantly. Castiel blinked around, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom.

 

“Hold on,” he said, stepping forwards and squinting into the darkness. “I think it goes quite far back.”

 

Dean, who’d been shaking the rainwater from his jacket, looked up.

 

“Oh yeah I suspect so,” he agreed, giving his jacket a final brush before walking past Castiel towards the back of the cave. “These places are dotted all over the mountain. Did you see those steps? Well travellers have been improving these places for centuries, helping the next person who stumbles across them find some warmth and shelter. It’s great actually, I’ve found blankets and supplies in some of them.”

 

“That’s very thoughtful,” Castiel murmured in appreciation, following Dean along the passage.

 

There was a clicking in the dark, and a moment later Dean’s lighter flickered to life. He held it up so they could dimly see the floor as they walked. It lit the rock walls, which had the smooth shine of slate. Castiel lowered his hood, looking curiously at what appeared to be etchings on the walls.

 

“How long do people stay?” he asked, eyeing the intricate patterns that made up a depiction of what looked like a hunt of some kind.

 

“Oh usually just a day or two if there’s a bad storm, just to get out of the worst of it,” Dean replied, his voice echoing slightly in the passage as he set off down it. “I don’t think we’ll need to though, should be on the move again in a couple of hours.”

 

“Well they can do a lot with a couple of days, can’t they?” Castiel said, rather impressed by the detail of some of the drawings as he followed Dean.

 

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

 

“The drawings of course,” Castiel replied, surprised that Dean was so unfussed by them.

 

Dean looked up, and Castiel saw his dark profile staring up at the walls.

 

“Oh,” Dean said, his head turning to take them all in as he walked. “Well that’s a first. Not seen drawings in one of these places before. Neat.”

 

“They’re not usual?” Castiel asked, hoping over lump in the rock.

 

“Nah,” Dean replied. “Most folks are too tired for that sort of thing I suspect. More concerned with staying warm than drawing. They’re probably really old.”

 

They carried on in silence. After a moment, Castiel realised it was getting lighter. Dean apparently also noticed this, as he flicked his lighter off and tucked it away.

 

The passage suddenly opened out into a large cave, and Castiel saw the source of the light. Daylight was streaming through an opening in the rocky ceiling, rain water falling into what was unmistakably a man made pond of some kind. The edges of the pool were jagged, but the shape was too perfectly circular to be natural. The water did not flow off to join some underground stream, but stayed still other than the dappling of raindrops from the gap above.

 

“Um,” Dean said, glancing around the room — because it did in fact feel more like a room than a cave. “This is new.”

 

The whole space was circular, the walls curving upwards towards the opening in the ceiling. Other openings, like the one they’d just emerged from were dotted around the edges, the paths beyond them dark. There was even more drawings in here than in the passage. Intricate and detailed, these etchings were carved more deeply into the rockface, their subjects depicted in sharp relief. Castiel wasn’t even sure what most of them showed. Occasionally he caught a face or an animal, but a lot of it was just interlocking patterns.

 

“So… not a travellers’ supply stop?” Castiel guessed, glancing at Dean.

 

“Doesn’t look like it,” Dean said frowning. “Definitely abandoned though.”

 

He pointed at a rusty mechanism of some sort that lay abandoned and broken over by the far wall.

 

“Perhaps a shrine of some sort,” Castiel offered, walking further into the room.

 

“Yeah something like that,” Dean muttered, his eyes shifting around as he followed Castiel.

 

“You think it’s alright?” Castiel asked, unashamed to admit that Dean probably knew more about this sort of place, what with him being a hunter.

 

Dean hummed noncommittally, but dumped his bag down anyway.

 

Castiel also unshouldered his backpack, before crossing over to the pool to stare curiously into its depth. He couldn’t see the bottom.

 

“Perhaps it’s a bath of some kind,” he mused, mostly to himself.

 

“Well it’s a very fancy bath if that’s what it is,” Dean snorted, apparently unimpressed by the chamber as he stalked around it, peering suspiciously into the passageways that lead off it. “I wonder what kind of bubble bath they use.”

 

Castiel didn’t reply, starring instead into the water.

 

“It may be ceremonial,” he muttered, rubbing the stubble that had grown on his chin after not shaving that morning.

 

“Ceremonial?” Dean repeated, coming to a halt to look back at Castiel.

 

He crossed quickly to Castiel’s side and peered into the water.

 

“Ceremonial, sacred shit gives me the creeps,” Dean muttered, glaring at the pool.

 

“Why?” Castiel asked, looking up at Dean’s frowning profile.

 

“People do weird things for religion,” Dean continued, still looking uneasy. “I’ve seen it too many times hunting. Some things are best left well alone.”

 

They fell silent, both staring at the water.

 

“Well, let’s get food,” Dean said suddenly, smacking Castiel on the shoulder and nearly sending him toppling headfirst into the pool.

 

Castiel caught himself as Dean turned away and strode over to their packs.

 

“'Sacred shit' not giving you the creeps anymore?” Castiel asked, a slight hint of mocking in his voice. Dean getting spooked was rather amusing.

 

“Yeah it’s good.” Dean shrugged, opening his own pack to rummage around inside of it.

 

Castiel threw another curious glance at the water, before joining Dean to help prepare lunch.

 

The only noise in the cavern was the whispering of wind as it snaked through the various passages. Castiel was curious to know how far into the mountain these passages went, and if they were connected to other rooms such as this one. But seeing as Dean seemed determined to stay here only for lunch and then carry on, storm or no storm, he doubted he’d have time to explore.

 

It was when Castiel was washing their bowls with water from the pool that he saw her.

  
There was a woman standing in the entrance to one of the passages.


	4. Chapter Four

Castiel started, almost dropping his metal bowl into the pool as he straightened up. The woman looked to be around his own age, dark hair falling to her shoulders around a pretty, young face. She looked quite as surprised to see them there as Castiel felt to see her, standing there in nothing more than a sleeveless, kneelength white dress. She stared at him with a mixture of curiosity, and apprehension.

 

“Hi,” Castiel said after a moment.

 

He heard Dean spin around behind him to see who he was talking to.

 

The woman blinked. She had a slender face, with large eyes and full lips set in the smooth creamy white skin. She was also heavily pregnant.

 

“Hi,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.

 

“Who are you?” Dean said, rather more sharply than Castiel thought was necessary. The woman was clearly no threat to them. Although Castiel wasn’t sure why she wasn’t dressed more appropriately for the weather.

 

“Are you alright?” Castiel asked, getting to his feet, the bowls still clasped in his hands as he peered across the cavern at the woman. He noticed with a pang of sympathy that she was barefoot.

 

“I was going to ask you the same question,” the girl laughed. “Did you come in from the storm?”

 

She glanced up at the hole in the ceiling, which was still pouring rain water into the pool, though at less of a vicious pace than when they’d first entered the cave.

 

“Yes,” Castiel replied.

 

Castiel had been about to ask the woman if she too was sheltering from the storm, but Dean cut across him.

 

“Who _are_ you?” he repeated.

 

The woman’s gaze shifted to Dean, and Castiel too shot him an annoyed look. Dean had one of his hands stuffed into the pocket of his jacket, and Castiel wondered if the knife he’d seen Dean with wasn’t the only weapon the hunter was concealing.

 

“I’m from the settlement below,” the woman explained. “I haven’t been up here for a while, it’s cold.”

 

She shivered.

 

“Settlement?” Castiel repeated, curious. “There’s people living in here?”

 

“Oh yes,” the girl said, and Castiel detected a hint of pride in her voice. “Our community has been living off the mountain for many centuries. There’s probably not many like us, who can live so successfully underground.”

 

“Why do you live in here?” Dean asked, coming forward to stand next to Castiel.

 

He seemed to have relaxed slightly, his posture no longer tensed to spring. It was probably quite difficult to stay wary of a woman who was so heavily pregnant.

 

“It suits us,” the woman replied simply. “You’re not the first to take shelter from a storm and find us, we’ve met all sorts. I’d be happy to give you some supplies and a place to rest if you need it, we have plenty to share.”

 

She gestured at the dark passageway behind her.

 

“That’s kind of you,” Castiel said, who was reminded strongly of Hannah and the kindness that had saved his life.

 

“We haven’t been travelling long,” Dean said rather sharply. “We won’t need to resupply for some time, thanks.”

 

“Dean,” Castiel hissed, disapproving of his tone.

 

The woman didn’t look offended though.

 

“That’s okay,” she shrugged. “Just thought I’d offer. It is very cold up here though… are you sure you don’t need anything? I think I’m going to go back down into the warmth.”

 

“I wouldn’t say no to something warm,” Castiel cut across Dean as he opened his mouth to refuse.

 

“Okay then,” the woman smiled warmly. “I love having visitors, you’ll have to tell me what’s going on in the above, I so rarely get to hear.”

 

Then she turned and beckoned them to follow her. Castiel and Dean exchanged a confused look.

 

“What’re you doing, agreeing to follow her like that?” Dean asked, annoyance in his voice.

 

“It’s _cold_ , Dean,” Castiel pointed out, rolling his eyes and turning to go to their packs. “We can at least stop to warm up before we carry on.”

 

“That’s what we were doing,” Dean said, sounding slightly offended as he watched Castiel tuck their packs out of the way. “I made us stew.”

 

“And as lovely as that was,” Castiel sighed, setting off around the pool to follow the girl through the passage in the far wall. “I’m still soaked to the skin.”

 

Dean followed, muttering to himself as he did, but Castiel ignored him. They caught up to the girl a little way down the passage, which was no longer dark thanks to a torch bracket on the wall.

 

“There you are,” she said, smiling at them both and turning to carry on. “I thought you might’ve changed your mind.”

 

“No it’s very kind of you to offer us shelter,” Castiel said, hurrying to walk beside her. “What did you mean by ‘in the above’? Is that what you call outside?”

 

“Yes,” the woman said happily. “It’s like a whole other world out there, so _bright_ and so many types of weather and temperatures. To be honest it’s a bit much sometimes for me, but I think I’m just used to the dark and quiet.”

 

“How many of there are you down here?” Castiel asked, completely fascinated by the idea of an entire community of people living totally underground.

 

“A fair few,” the girl said, smiling vaguely ahead of them, her face lit by the soft light of another torch up ahead. “Nothing like what you’ve seen though I expect. I’ve heard from other travellers that many of the people from above live in great cities, millions of you all together.”

 

She took a great shuddering breath, her eyes wide with the idea of so many people.

 

“It sounds wonderful,” she breathed.

 

Castiel continued to pepper her with questions as they walked down the winding passage. But he didn’t find out much more, as the woman seemed more concerned about finding out news from the ‘above’, and brushed many of his questions aside in favour of asking her own. Dean walked silently behind them, apparently still in a mood.

 

The ground was sloping downwards. It had started so gradually that Castiel hadn’t noticed at first, but it got steeper as they went, the passage turning more often to compensate for the sharp decline. The air was also getting warmer.

 

“There’s stores in there,” the woman said suddenly, gesturing to a discreet opening in the passage wall to her left. “But we can get you some stuff on the way back up, no need to carry it down unnecessarily.”

 

Castiel looked curiously into the opening as they passed it, catching sight of sacks of grain and jars of what looked like pickled meat. There were also backpacks. These were lined up neatly in front of the stores, as though waiting to be packed.

 

“Do any of you journey up above?” Castiel asked.

 

“Not really, no,” the woman replied, shrugging.

 

Castiel frowned at this, wondering what the packs could be used for, before deciding they were probably used to help carry food around the winding tunnels.

 

“Oh I’ll kill Ricky,” the woman huffed as the light around them faded. “He was supposed to light the torches along this stretch of corridor.”

 

As though the tunnel was reacting to her words, it suddenly opened out onto a room, larger than the last and much more difficult to see without the aid of torches. Castiel squinted into the gloom. He could make out what looked like tables, and wondered if this was where they were going to eat.

 

“Sorry about this,” the woman said, the white of her dress standing out in the gloom. “If you stay here a moment I’ll go and fetch some kindling and torches and then we can eat.”

 

Castiel and Dean murmured their assent and the woman turned and vanished into the darkness. There was a clicking, and Dean’s lighter illuminated his face. He did not look happy.

 

“Well this is great,” he said, his sarcastic tone echoing around the stone chamber.

 

“I didn’t know hunters were so easily flustered,” Castiel said coolly, turning to inspect the stone table beside him.

 

Dean scoffed from behind him.

 

“Bring the light over here,” Castiel muttered, leaning over the table.

 

The stone slab was illuminated by the flickering light as Dean joined him. Castiel ran his fingers over the carvings, just like those he’d seen everywhere else in the place.

 

“They look Karithic in origin,” Castiel murmured, mostly to himself.

 

“They look what now?” Dean asked, the light flickering violently as he leaned down next to Castiel.

 

“Karithic,” Castiel repeated, tracing the curve of what looked like a knot in the stone, picking out the symbols hidden in the interlocking pattern. “An archaic language, long dead. This language looks to be derived from it.”

 

“Well that’s fascinating,” Dean said, the sarcasm back in his tone despite the fact that he was obviously interested as he continued to lean close to Castiel. “Does it say anything about finding a frickin’ light?”

 

“Don’t be absurd,” Castiel tutted, not quite catching Dean’s sarcasm. “They wouldn’t painstakingly carve menial instructions like finding a light in a rock like this. And stop breathing so loudly, it’s distracting.”

 

“I’m not,” Dean hissed.

 

Castiel froze. Dean also went still.

 

Then the world broke. There was an explosion of noise as Dean let off a shot from a gun Castiel hadn’t even seen him pull, and Castiel was knocked flying as something solid hit him in the stomach.

 

He was thrown into another stone table behind him, and the wind knocked out of him. Castiel crumpled, clutching his stomach. He opened his watering eyes to a blaze of light, and for a mad moment he thought the ceiling was on fire. But then reason returned along with his breath, and he gulped huge lungfuls of air as he stared up at some sort of interlocking torch system suspended from the ceiling.

 

There was a spitting, hissing noise, and Castiel turned to see something that almost winded him all over again. A reptilian creature was gathering itself from where it had been blasted back by Dean’s shot. It was at least seven feet tall and bore the look of a man, if a man happened to grow black scales and sprout four extra legs. It strongly resembled a scorpion from the waist down, a powerful tail flicking restlessly across the floor as it regarded Dean. But from the waist up it was almost human.

 

“Cas?” Dean called over his shoulder, not daring to take his eyes off the creature as he held his gun on it. “Cas, are you okay?”

 

“I’m—” Castiel spluttered, clutching his bruised stomach which must’ve been hit by the creature’s tail. “I’m fine.”

 

A flicker of movement from his left caught Castiel’s eye. He whipped around and saw, with a jolt,  more of the things slithering over stone tables and even scuttling over the walls towards them.

 

“Dean!” Castiel choked out in warning, struggling to his feet.

 

But Dean had already spotted the things and, firing a couple more rounds into the creature that had attacked first, he spun to face the new arrivals.

 

Castiel’s heart had somehow worked its way up into his throat and was threatening to choke him with its pounding rhythm. He heard more scuttling from behind him, and span away from where Dean was firing shots into the approaching horde to see three more emerging from the passage they’d just come from.

 

There were too many of them. Castiel had a moment to appreciate how furious Michael would be if he ever found out some sort of scorpion-lizard-human hybrid had killed his nephew.

 

Castiel clenched his jaw, swallowed the panic clawing at his chest and reached out with his mind. There must be something, anything. But there was just rock, so much rock.

 

He backed away, fumbling with the stone table beside him to keep himself upright. The things moved with horrible jerky lurches, emitting insectile clicks of excitement as they drew closer to their prey.

 

He heard Dean let out a shout of frustration and was momentarily distracted. But a rally of shots told him Dean was still up and fighting, and his attention snapped back. But there was nothing, absolutely nothing.

 

No. Not nothing. There, a pulse of life against the rock.

 

The first of the creatures reared before him, reaching out with a clawed hand, the firelight gleaming off its pupiless black eyes.

 

With a cry of mingled terror and effort, Castiel pulled. The creature jerked to a stop. So did its fellows.

 

Castiel backed hurriedly away towards Dean as the things looked down in confusion. Lichen had crusted over their thin, pointed legs, thick enough to weld them to the floor.

 

Castiel strained to keep it growing further up the monsters’ spindly limbs as they struggled to break free, a sweat breaking out on his forehead. He manipulated it to be harder than its usual brittle state, solidifying it to be as tough as the rock it grew on.

 

Just as he was thinking there might be the slimmest chance of survival, arms closed around his chest, soft and gentle as a lover’s but undeniably strong.

 

“Sshhhh…” a voice breathed in his ear, and Castiel felt a pregnant stomach press into his back.

 

He went to rip himself away, but the woman with the dark hair held him close to her, her mouth pressed to his ear.

 

“Hush now,” she cooed. “And free my children.”

 

Castiel let out a grunt of disgust as he tried to elbow the woman in the ribs. But she held him fast.

 

“Castielll,” she breathed, her hand slipping down to his abdomen. “I thought you wanted to stay here. Stay here with Eve, stay here with me and my children.”

 

And with another pang of horror, Castiel felt the thing in Eve’s stomach stir. A thing that had too many legs.

 

The repulsion he felt gave him enough strength to wrench lichen up over Eve’s feet and tear himself away from her.

 

She let out a cry of frustration and screeched something in a spitting hiss. Castiel whirled around and saw that Dean had worked himself further away down the long cavern as he ducked and dived to avoid being stung by tails or shredded by claws.

 

At Eve’s hissed instructions three of the scaly creatures detached themselves from the fray and came at Castiel. With a shout of anger, Dean felled the two he’d been parrying and vaulted over the tables after the ones coming for Castiel.

 

Anything less than a direct headshot only seemed to slow the creatures down. Dean caught one of them, and it crumpled, but the other two scuttled and crawled with terrifying speed towards Castiel.

 

There was no more lichen, Castiel realised in horror. At least none that he could reach from this distance whilst he was still holding four struggling bodies in place.

 

“Dean!” he cried out in panic, retreating backwards towards the curved stone wall.

 

One of the things reached him. The pincers over its mouth clicked in excitement, and Castiel narrowly avoided the tail that slashed the air where his head had just been. Then with a bang the thing crumpled, revealing Dean standing a way off behind it, already discharging his magazine.

 

But the other was still on him, the wet blackness of its eyes glinting in the firelight.

 

“Dean,” Castiel cried out again, fear in his voice as he dodged a blow from the last creature. And lost his balance.

 

He landed hard, a stab of pain shooting up from where his elbow connected with the floor. He barely noticed though. The creature struck again and Castiel rolled to the right just in time.

 

“I’m out,” Dean cried, pulling his knife from his belt and hurling it through the air.

 

The blade buried itself in the vulnerable flesh between the thing’s leg joint, and it let out an awful clicking, hissing screech, which was echoed by Eve from where she still stood trapped.

 

Dean vaulted the last few tables, and aimed another blade at the creature’s head. It momentarily turned its attention to Dean, letting out furious clicks, but then it lunged at Castiel.

 

With a cry Dean launched himself at the thing, collapsing with it in a many-legged tangle.

 

Castiel yelled Dean’s name again, and plunged towards the thrashing pair.

 

No, no, no. There was screaming in his head, and for some reason this was so much worse than watching the monsters come for him. Dean was plunging his knife into every vulnerable area he could reach, holding one clawed hand safely away from himself and kneeling on top of the other.

 

Castiel reached out, and it was as though time slowed for him. The tail lashed out, faster than Dean could react to, and the stinger buried itself in the hunter’s shoulder.

 

Castiel let out a yell of fury, and the ground beneath the struggling pair cracked. There was a moment in which both Dean and the monster looked almost comical in their shock, and then roots were snaking upwards. They entwined themselves around the creature, whilst lifting Dean clean away from it as it thrashed. The roots were thick and pale, and they bound the thing like iron and started to drag it downwards.

 

There was a scream of anger from behind them. Castiel glanced over his shoulder at Eve. She was still trapped, but she was thrashing against her binding so hard that Castiel knew it wouldn’t hold her for long.

 

He hurried to where Dean was struggling to stand, and slung one of Dean’s arms over his shoulder as he took his weight.

 

“I’ve got you.” Castiel’s voice shook almost as much as Dean's legs did.

 

“Castiel… Cas, it got me, you need to—”

 

“You’re going to be fine,” Castiel said sharply, forcing Dean to start walking.

 

It was taking every ounce of his strength to keep Eve and her children bound whilst he hoisted Dean across the room. But somehow he managed it. And by the time they reached the room with the pool in it, Castiel’s muscles were screaming.

 

“C’mon,” Castiel urged, somehow managing to grab both packs whilst he still supported Dean, who had gone very pale. “I can hear more of them, we’ve got to move.”

  
And he hurried them into the passage through which they’d first entered.


	5. Chapter Five

When they finally stopped, it was because Dean collapsed. They’d half ran for what felt like miles, but couldn’t have been too far. The creatures, whatever they were, seemed less confident when they got topside and only followed for a short distance.

 

They’d fled upwards, always upwards, until they came to stop in the cave that they were in now, looking out over the lower peaks of the mountains from a windy perch.

 

Castiel hurried to get Dean out of the cold. The hunter slipped from his shoulder as soon as they entered the cave which, although dry, didn’t go back very far. This soothed Castiel’s nerves immensely. There was not a single dark corner for something to lurk behind in here.

 

Castiel flung their packs down and hurried to tear out Dean’s spare knife and a flask of grass spirit. Then he crossed to Dean, who'd crawled away to the back of the cave, and was now lying huddled on his side.

 

“Come on,” Castiel said, his low voice gentle yet firm as he made Dean sit up to rest his back against the rock wall.

 

Dean moaned in protest, his eyes screwed shut as he let Castiel move him. Castiel’s hands were surprisingly steady, even with the adrenaline still pumping through him, as he pushed Dean’s jacket off. He settled into a crouch between Dean’s splayed legs, deciding that now was hardly the moment for prudishness.

 

“I’m sorry about your t-shirt, Dean,” Castiel said, causing Dean to open his mouth in question even though his eyes stayed closed.

 

But before he could say anything, Castiel ripped the black t-shirt clean down the front.

 

Dean’s eyes did fly open at that, a small noise of surprise escaping him. But he could do no more than shiver and stare as Castiel poured grass spirit onto Dean’s blade.

 

“This is going to hurt,” Castiel warned, finding Dean’s eyes for the first time since he’d been stung.

 

What he saw there made him falter for a fraction of a second. There was complete and utter trust in them. Dean was looking at Castiel as though he’d have let him perform full on surgery with nothing more than a knife and some alcohol if it took Castiel’s fancy.

 

Luckily they wouldn’t have to go that far. Castiel suddenly remembered what he was doing. The look did make him reach for Dean’s hand though, giving it a hard squeeze before he splashed the spirit onto the puncture wound just below Dean’s right collarbone.

 

Dean hissed in pain, his hand tightening around Castiel’s. But he gritted his teeth, and reluctantly released Castiel’s hand a moment later as the other swapped the knife into his right hand. Castiel pressed his left palm against Dean’s shoulder to hold it steady.

 

“Look away,” he said firmly, and Dean did as he was told, his jaw clenching as Castiel made the first cut.

 

The skin seemed taught and swollen around the puncture wound. Castiel bit his lip as he made the X cut over it, and clear liquid seeped out along with the blood.

 

“Okay, worst bit’s over,” Castiel said, discarding the knife so as to place his hand on the nape of Dean’s neck, gently guiding the hunter’s head back so Castiel could reach his collarbone.

 

Castiel lowered his mouth to the wound in Dean’s chest, now bleeding profusely after his incision, and began to suck. The blood tasted wrong, and Castiel drew as much as he could into his mouth. Dean shuddered, his skin fever hot against Castiel’s lips as the venom still coursed its way through him, and his breathing came in little gasps.

 

Castiel drew back and spat to the side, blood splashing the slate of the cave floor. Then he lowered his mouth to the wound again, causing Dean to jerk and grab suddenly at Castiel’s shoulder blade with his uninjured arm. Dean let out a low moan of pain as Castiel drew more contaminated blood.

 

Castiel repeated the process four more times before he was satisfied. By this time Dean was twitching and jerking, and his eyes had fallen shut again, his head resting against the wall on which he was slumped against. But the shivers didn’t seem as constant, the jerking more of an after effect of the combined venom and shock.

 

Castiel peeled the ruins of Dean’s t-shirt off. Dean made no objection, his head falling easily forward onto Castiel’s shoulder as the other man moved him to pull the t-shirt out from between him and the wall.

 

Castiel cupped Dean’s head again, and guided him gently down to lie on his side on the stone floor. Then he hurried over to the packs.

 

The rain was still pouring down outside, shrouding the landscape in grey. But Castiel ignored it. Grabbing up the packs he crossed quickly back to Dean who, in the time Castiel had taken to extract the bedrolls and some essential herbs and dressings, had managed to peel off his boots and sodden jeans.

 

Castiel made a point of keeping his eyes firmly above the waistline of Dean’s boxers. Not that the expanse of toned, tanned, and freckled skin over Dean’s torso and arms weren’t distracting in themselves, but this was hardly the time for such thoughts.

 

Dean mumbled a few incomprehensible things as Castiel uncorked one of his readymade healing pastes. Castiel threw a worried look at the twitching muscles of the hunter’s face, the screwed shut eyes, and wondered if the venom was giving him fever visions.

 

Castiel pushed him gently onto his back, having to force Dean’s arms away from where they’d locked against his chest. Dean groaned again. With a sudden inspiration, Castiel grabbed the grass spirit again.

 

“Open your mouth,” Castiel instructed, tilting Dean’s head up to hold his lips to the bottle.

 

Dean did as he was told, letting a slow trickle of grass spirit into his mouth. He swallowed before coughing violently.

 

“Alright, that’s good,” Castiel said gently, lowering Dean’s head back to the floor and scooping green paste from a glass bottle.

 

The antiseptic paste somewhat stemmed the bleeding, and Castiel cleaned the blood off the rest of Dean’s twitching chest as best he could with the remains of the t-shirt. Then he made a quick field dressing, binding the bandage over Dean’s shoulder, under his arm and then across over his other shoulder to hold it tight.

 

By the time Castiel was done his hands were shaking with exhaustion, but he didn’t stop. He spread out Dean’s bedroll, helped the hunter into it, and set about making a fire with the little kindling they had left over from the valley.

 

He’d lost any sense of embarrassment somewhere down in the caves, and stripped off his wet clothes. Dean wasn’t paying attention anyway. The hunter was curled into a tight ball in his bedroll, his body wracked with shudders and his eyes tight shut as he mumbled to himself. Castiel changed into dry clothes before dragging his bedroll over beside Dean’s. He sat himself down on it and stoked the fire.

 

Dean seemed to have fallen into a fitful sleep. Castiel kept an eye on him as he made tea over the fire. At one point Dean shouted out, and Castiel abandoned his mug to grip the hunter’s shoulder.

 

“S’okay, Dean, it’s alright,” he murmured, at a loss for what to say and clumsily stroking Dean’s wet hair back from his forehead.

 

But the sound of his voice seemed to soothe Dean, and the man fell back into a quiet, albeit twitchy, sleep.

 

Castiel kept an eye on the darkening sky outside for the rest of the day. The rain didn’t abate, but their firewood did and he was forced to climb into his bedroll to stay warm. As darkness began to fall, Dean’s shuddering worsened again. Castiel drew an extra blanket and all of his spare clothing out of his pack, and stuffed it down Dean’s bedroll, cushioning him from the worst of the chill. Dean’s bare arms immediately latched onto the extra layers, and soon after he settled back into a peaceful sleep.

 

It must’ve been in the early hours of the morning when the rain finally stopped. Castiel was huddled next to Dean, leant against the back wall of the cave as he watched the darkness at its mouth.

 

He didn’t dare sleep, and kept Dean’s spare knife gripped in his hand beneath the bedroll. But nothing stirred in the night. The wind, which had died down a bit with the passing of the storm, made a gentle sighing in the cave, like a whispering tide in the dark. Moonlight fell silver onto the floor near the mouth of the cave, but didn’t reach them as far back as they were. It was only Dean’s gentle breathing that told Castiel the hunter was still sound asleep beside him.

 

Castiel squinted down at the dark shape of Dean. He owed him his life, that much was clear. And although he knew that anyone would be grateful for such an act of heroism as Dean had done for him, Castiel couldn't help feeling as though he was even more indebted to his companion, simply because it had been so long since he'd met someone who'd be willing to risk their life for his.

 

He also realised that it had been the first time he'd been really scared. Not for himself, he'd gotten used to being scared for his own safety ever since Michael’s betrayal. No, this was a deeper fear. The fear of loss. More powerful than the fear of pain.

 

Dean mumbled incoherently in his sleep, and Castiel placed a hand on his shoulder. Dean fell quiet.

 

Castiel sighed and leant his head back against the cave wall, his eyes on the entrance, feeling something akin to peace.

 

* * *

 

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but one minute Castiel was straining to see into the darkness, the next he was blinking blurrily into the light. Dawn. Birds were calling to the sun as it lit the horizon with a gentle pink glow.

 

Castiel started, looking around slightly panicked. But Dean was still asleep, curled close to Castiel’s side in his bedroll. Castiel let out a sigh of relief, silently cursing himself for letting his guard down.

 

His hand had slipped from Dean’s shoulder as he slept and Castiel saw, with a jolt of surprise, that Dean had latched onto it in his sleep, and now held it close to his chest.

 

Very carefully, Castiel went to retrieve the hand. Dean’s grip tightened slightly and he mumbled something, his forehead creasing. Castiel froze. But a moment later Dean was breathing deeply again, his grip slack. Castiel drew back his hand with a sigh of relief.

 

He fought his way out of his bedroll, collecting the knife from where he’d let it slip from his hand, and crossed over to the mouth of the cave. The slate grey of the mountains peaks had been painted deep hues of blue and purple by the rising sun. A kestrel circled against the sky. Castiel followed its eyeline to the rocks below, but could see no sign of threat from the valley. He caught sight of a stream, bright as a ribbon between the rocks, and made a note of its position so as to collect water from it later.

 

It took Dean two more hours to stir, by which time the sun had risen a little higher although the day was still cold.

 

“Mnmm, Cas?” Dean’s groggy voice reached Castiel where he was sat cross legged in the cave mouth.

 

“I’m here,” Castiel replied, turning to see Dean blinking blearily at him.

 

Dean tried to rise to a seating position, but gave a yelp of pain and fell back. Castiel hurried to his feet and returned to where Dean was looking pale and annoyed.

 

“Stay still, you’ll open your wound again,” Castiel said sternly, pushing on Dean’s chest as he tried to sit up again.

 

“Alright, doctor Castiel,” Dean snorted, closing his eyes and raising the arm on his uninjured side to rub his face. “What time is it?”

 

“Still early,” Castiel said, pushing Dean’s bedroll back to get a look at his bandages. “I need to change these.”

 

Dean nodded, his eyes still closed, apparently too exhausted to muster up words. Castiel unwound the soiled bandages, glad to see that the wound had mostly stopped bleeding with the help of his paste, and cleaned it with grass spirit and another strip from Dean’s rapidly depleting t-shirt. Then he reapplied fresh paste.

 

When Castiel had finished, he glanced up at Dean’s face and saw that he’d opened his eyes to watch him.

 

“What?” Castiel asked, suddenly self conscious.

 

“Nothing.” Dean gave half a shrug. “You’re getting pretty good at that.”

 

“I’ve been good at that for a while,” Castiel pointed out. “I was the village’s closest thing to a healer.”

 

“Hey I meant it as a compliment,” Dean retorted, but there was a slight grin on his lips.

 

“I know,” Castiel gave him a tight smile. “Sorry, I just… I owe you my life.”

 

Dean’s smile faded, and Castiel looked away quickly, toying with the little glass bottle of healing paste.

 

“Hey,” Dean said gently, but Castiel didn’t look up at him.

 

“Hey,” Dean repeated, hoisting himself with a grunt of pain up onto his good elbow and catching Castiel’s hand to stop him fiddling with the bottle.

 

Castiel was surprised enough by the touch to look up at him.

 

“What’s up?” Dean asked, concern on his face. “Are you scared of those vlek? Because they don’t come up this high above ground, we’re safe here.”

 

“Scared of what?” Castiel said, momentarily distracted by the odd word.

 

“Vlek,” Dean repeated. “Those things that attacked us, they’re called vlek.”

 

“Oh,” said Castiel, slightly dazed by the information. “No, I was just… I was more scared about you to be honest.”

 

Castiel looked quickly away again, before continuing in a quiet voice.

 

“I should have listened to you, you were right about that Eve woman, and then… then... I’ll never forget what you did for me.”

 

There was silence. Castiel stared determinedly at a beetle making its way across the cave floor, very aware of how warm Dean’s hand was in his own.

 

“Hey, it was nothing,” Dean said, his hand slipping away from Castiel’s and his voice nonchalant. But the silence had been a beat too long for him to pull it off. “Besides, you saved my arse too. What you did with the roots back there? That was freakin’ awesome, man.”

 

Castiel looked back at him, absentmindedly resuming his toying with the bottle as Dean pushed himself backwards to rest against the cave wall, his face creasing with the effort.

 

“Still,” Castiel said quietly. “It’s been a long time since anyone cared.”

 

Dean paused in the rearranging of his layers, and Castiel purposely looked everywhere but Dean’s mostly bare chest, the bedroll having slipped as he sat up to expose more than just the bandages.

 

“Well…” Dean looked slightly uncomfortable. “You’re worth caring about. For the resistance I mean.” He said the last part quickly, his cheeks flushing slightly.

 

Castiel smiled at him, then decided to rescue him from his obvious awkwardness.

 

“Want some tea?” he asked, his voice light.

 

“Sure,” Dean agreed, looking grateful for the change in subject.

 

They didn’t move for the rest of the day, despite the good weather. Dean put up a fuss at this, wanting to push onwards. But when Castiel pointed out that they’d probably end up losing more time if they moved before Dean’s health had improved, he had grudgingly agreed. Dean had attempted to demonstrate that he was more than capable of walking, but after nearly falling headfirst into the fire, he conceded to allow a smirking Castiel to make him soup as he sat in his bedroll.

 

Dean was disgusted but unsurprised to find out the true nature of Eve’s pregnancy.

 

“Yeah I've heard of women like her before,” he said darkly. “Well women might be a bit generous, the only difference between her and her vlek kin is appearance. She acts as a sort of queen bee in the hive, she may not have the claws and stinger but she's even more dangerous… I'll let some hunters know about it at our next stop, they'll take care of it.”

 

Castiel absorbed this information, thinking about the wriggling thing he'd felt in Eve’s belly, and the way the mother of monsters had cooed softly in his ear. Then he thought of how he’d cracked the floor open.

 

He’d been quite as shocked as Dean when he’d managed it. He had no idea he was so strong. But then, Castiel thought, he didn’t know if he’d ever felt fear like in that moment that Dean was stung. It seemed ridiculous, he had after all, endured much more fear than most people experience in a lifetime. But he’d never seen his parents get murdered, and Hannah had gone peacefully. And although he hadn’t known Dean for as long as these other people he had cared so deeply for, Castiel knew that the idea of Dean’s death had filled him with enough horror to rip a hole in a mountain.

 

Dean’s mind was apparently on simpler things. He was thrilled that Castiel had managed to save the packs, and seeing as he was in such a good mood Castiel didn't mention the shortening of his name that Dean had started to use freely. In fact he was rather pleased by it, he'd not been given nicknames since he was a child.

 

“There’s a stream a little way down into the valley,” Castiel said, as the sun dipped the mountains in the deep gold of late afternoon. “We need more water and firewood, I'll-”

 

“You’re not going down there alone,” Dean cut him off sharply, looking up from where he’d been reloading his gun.

 

“Dean we need water and wood,” Castiel said, slightly exasperated. “It’s not as though I’m going back down into the caves, I’ll be fine.”

 

“I don’t care, you’re not going,” Dean said stubbornly, jamming the magazine in with a little more force than was necessary.

 

Throughout the day the movement in Dean’s right shoulder had gradually improved, and a little of the colour had returned to his cheeks.

 

“Dean, don’t be ridiculous,” Castiel retorted. “We can’t go cold or thirsty.”

 

“Better than being killed or eaten,” Dean replied quickly.

 

They glared at each other. Then Castiel sighed.

 

“I know you’re worried,” he said, running his fingers through his hair as he looked down. “But you need to trust me with some things, otherwise this is going to get difficult.”

 

There was a long pause. Castiel didn’t dare look up at Dean, fearing that if did, he’d receive a full lecture on trusting random pregnant women in caves.

 

“Okay,” Dean said into the silence.

 

Castiel looked up at him, surprised.

 

“You’ll.... Let me go?” Castiel asked, eyeing Dean’s resigned expression cautiously.

 

“Yes,” Dean sighed. “You’re right, we need to trust each other.”

 

“I’ll only be gone for a little while, it’s not a long climb down,” Castiel said, getting to his feet.

 

“Okay,” Dean sighed, still not looking very happy with the idea. “But take this.”

 

He held out his gun. Castiel stared at it.

 

“I don’t like guns,” Castiel stated, not moving to take the weapon.

 

“And I don’t like porridge, doesn’t mean I don’t suck it up and have some healthy oats when I’m on the road,” Dean retorted, shaking the gun slightly. “Take it.”

 

“Dean—”

 

“Cas,” Dean mimicked, cutting him off with a grin.

 

“No, Dean,” Castiel said firmly. “I can defend myself without a gun in case you forgot.”

 

“As if I could forget,” Dean said bitterly, rubbing his throat with his free hand. “But there’s limited plant life here, Cas, just take the damn gun or you’re not going. I’ll pin you down if I have to, I might be weak at the moment but I'm heavy.”

 

Castiel was momentarily distracted by the thought of Dean holding him down, but quickly pushed the thought from his mind.

 

“Fine,” he sighed. “But only because you saved my life and your shoulder still looks horrible.”

 

Dean grinned.

 

“Great,” he said, satisfied. “Now this is how you use it.”

 

Dean quickly showed Castiel how to unlock the safety catch and pull back the trigger, before checking that Castiel was holding it correctly, his hands warm on Castiel’s as he adjusted his grip.

 

“And it has one hell of a kick so be prepared for that if you need to use it,” Dean finished, looking animated from where he sat next to Castiel on top of his bedroll.

 

“I won’t” Castiel muttered, still holding the gun as though it were a live snake.

 

Dean rolled his eyes and then slowly got to his feet. Castiel hurried to help him, but the other waved him off.

 

“I’m fine,” Dean said, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I’ll sit by the cave entrance, won’t be able to keep an eye on you the whole time with all the rocks, but good enough.”

 

So it was that Castiel set off for the stream. The descent into the valley was fairly easy, a sort of natural path winding its way down the hillside that he and Dean had fled up the previous day. But by the time he reached the water, he was still out of breath. He stood for a moment, looking up at the clear sky, which was quickly fading from the deep blue of afternoon to the velvety navy of evening in the East, whilst the sky to the West was on fire with what promised to be a brilliant sunset.

 

Castiel bent down next to a boulder. The stream, although narrow, was fast flowing, little rushes of water hurrying over the rocks and in between boulders as though racing each other. He took several long gulps from his canteen after filling it, before submerging it again. It was as he was filling his second, larger canteen that he heard it.

 

There were voices coming nearer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments on zesty topless action?


	6. Chapter Six

Castiel froze. The voices were a little way off downstream, but they were getting closer. What sounded like a small group of men were making their way up the mountainside on the other side of the boulder he was crouched behind.

 

Castiel stayed very still, wondering what to do. He could feel the weight of the gun in the waistband of his jeans. He caught snatches of conversation from the men and then, to his horror, one of the few stopped and said; “here, this'll do for the night.”

 

There were grunts and sighs as the men settled down to sit on the floor. Then what sounded like the strike of a match, and a warm light flickered across the rocky bank on the far side of the stream. They'd lit a fire.

 

“Gordon, sit down,” one of the voices said. “We’re not going to find him in this light.”

 

Castiel wondered who they were looking for. But he had a horrible suspicion he knew.

 

His fears were confirmed a moment later when another of the men, possibly Gordon, spoke.

 

“I don't know how a little prince gets so far out here,” the man’s low voice said, sounding irritated. “Place like this? There's all sorts of things lurking in the dark.”

 

“Well it's like the woman said,” the first man said. “He's with another guy.”

 

Castiel’s stomach twisted. How did they know he was with Dean?

 

“I don't trust witches,” Gordon grunted. “If Red wasn't working with the king I'd kill her.”

 

Castiel’s stomach gave another lurch at the mention of Michael. His legs were starting to cramp with the strain of staying crouched behind the boulder, but he didn't dare move.

 

“She’s good though,” the first spoke again. “Can't deny that she's handy. Knows things, doesn't she?”

 

The other man didn't reply, and after a little while they moved onto other, more everyday conversation.

 

Very slowly, Castiel lowered himself to his hands and knees. His heart was in his throat as he crawled back the way he'd came, and he was terrified he'd make a sound, but he couldn't stay here. When he'd gotten to the next boulder, he deemed himself far enough away from the men to try and get a look at them, so he peered gingerly around the edge of the rock.

 

Five shapes were huddled in the pool of firelight, their shadows dancing behind them. Castiel couldn't make out what they looked like from here, but resolved not to show himself to anyone else on the road from now on in case there were others hunting him.

 

When he was a safe distance away, Castiel got to his feet and climbed the mountain side up toward the cave as quickly and as quietly as he could. By the time Dean came into view, Castiel was shaking.

 

“Hey where's the firewood?” Dean started, straightening up where he was huddled by the cave mouth.

 

There was still enough light in the sky to see Dean’s expression change when he caught sight of Castiel’s face. He stood up to meet Castiel as he ran towards the cave.

 

“Cas, what—”

 

Dean’s words were cut off by Castiel catching him by his good arm and dragging him back into the shelter of the cave.

 

“Men,” Castiel panted, his lungs screaming with the effort of running up the hill. “In the valley… looking for me… know I’m with.... you.”

 

Castiel’s words were separated by huge gasps for air, and it took him a moment to notice that it was more than having run up the hill that was making him out of breathe. He clutched at his chest, which was heaving with his panicked breaths.

 

Dean looked astonished, and then furious. He rounded towards the entrance of the cave, looking as though he might storm down the hillside to face them. Then Castiel’s gasping brought him back around, concern taking over the anger.

 

“Hey now,” Dean said gently, taking hold of Castiel’s upper arms and holding him firmly. “Hey, look at me, it’s okay.”

 

When Castiel’s breathing didn’t return to normal, Dean wrapped his arms around him. This shocked Castiel enough to take his mind off of the men in the valley, at least partly. Dean felt so real, his chest solid against Castiel’s heaving one, his hands firm on his back. The last person who had hugged him had been Hannah. And it was nothing like this. This was… well Castiel couldn’t really think what it was, but as he folded his head down under Dean’s chin he had an overwhelming feeling of safety, with or without vleks and a group of men lurking in the valley below.

 

Dean’s hands rubbed soothing circles on Castiel’s back, and Castiel could smell the smoky scent of the fire on his canvas jacket, as well as something deeper and earthier that was undeniably Dean.

 

When the hunter moved back Castiel felt suddenly cold, and it was as though when Dean had moved away he’d pulled something out of Castiel’s chest as he went. And Castiel was more painfully aware of that gaping hollowness inside him than ever before.

 

But Dean didn’t go far. He moved back to hold Castiel at arm’s length and stooped slightly to get a look at his face. Castiel met Dean’s gaze somewhat reluctantly, feeling slightly embarrassed about going to bits. But the green eyes were warm with understanding.

 

“I won’t let them take you,” Dean said, his voice low and fierce.

 

Castiel searched Dean’s intense gaze, and found no shred of doubt there.

 

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said.

 

“We’ll wait a few hours, until we’re sure they’re asleep, and then we’ll move on,” Dean reassured him. “We’ll cover as much ground as we can with the cover of darkness.”

 

Castiel hesitated.

 

“But,” he said, “your shoulder…”

 

“Will be fine,” Dean said firmly, squeezing Castiel’s arms slightly. “We need to get you out of here.”

 

Castiel nodded in agreement, and Dean released him.

 

“At least let me change the bandages,” Castiel pressed. “It’ll get infected otherwise.”

 

Dean flashed a grin at him, his teeth white in the gloom.

 

“Okay, doctor Cas,” he said, and went to drag his bedroll from the cave mouth over to the back of the cave.

 

Dean sat down and rummaged around in his pack for something.

 

“Seeing as we don’t have firewood, and even if we did it would be a bad idea to light it,” Dean said. “We can use this.”

 

He pulled out a jar with a ball of warm yellow light suspended in it. Castiel gasped and, forgetting himself, scrambled practically into Dean’s lap in his excitement to see the jar.

 

“Is that a merl light?” Castiel asked, his eyes wide and his face painted with the glow from the jar.

 

“Yep,” Dean chuckled. “Didn’t know you were so keen on them, would’ve gotten it out earlier.”

 

“May I?” Castiel asked, holding out a hand to touch the jar.

 

“Course,” shrugged Dean, handing Castiel the merl light.

 

The jar was warm in Castiel’s hands, and he felt its curious heat spread up his arms as he examined the light, which bobbed up and down slightly. Little flecks of glittery light shimmered around the central glow.

 

“Beautiful,” he breathed, awestruck.

 

“Very,” Dean said.

 

Castiel glanced at him and saw that Dean was not looking at the jar, but at him, Castiel.

 

But a moment later Dean coughed and looked at the merl light, taking it from Castiel to place it on the floor next to them. Castiel stared into the warm yellow glow, feeling slightly dazed. Had he imagined what he thought he’d seen in Dean’s eyes?

 

It was only when Dean coughed again that Castiel looked up, and immediately flushed scarlet. Dean had stripped off his jacket and t-shirt and was now sitting naked to the waist down, his knees almost touching Castiel’s.

 

“Oh, uh, yes,” Castiel stuttered, going to grab the bottle of healing paste and knocking it over.

 

Dean picked it up and passed it to him, a slight smirk playing on his lips. Castiel kept his attention firmly on unwrapping the bandages, but it was rather difficult to stay unflustered when his hands were on the skin of Dean’s chest. Somehow this had been a lot easier when Dean had been semi-conscious or half asleep.

 

He could feel Dean’s eyes boring into him, but refused to meet his gaze.

 

“Right, well,” Castiel said, in a firmly matter of fact voice. “It’s looking better than it was.”

 

“Feels better,” Dean said, and Castiel momentarily let his eyes flick up to Dean’s, only to find that he was still smirking. Castiel looked away quickly.

 

He cleaned the wound with more strips of t-shirt and grass spirit, trying not to think too much about what he was going to have to do next.

 

“Um,” Castiel started, fiddling with the bottle of green paste. “Are you okay with me…?”

 

“You’ve already done it twice,” Dean pointed out, and Castiel could hear the amusement in his voice. “Rub away, doctor Cas.”

 

Castiel decided right then and there that he wasn’t going to let Dean enjoy his awkwardness. He looked up and stared resolutely into Dean’s eyes.

 

“Okay,” Castiel said, and he saw the smirk fade a little from Dean’s face.

 

Castiel swiped a bit of the paste out onto his fingers, and reached up to place them onto Dean’s wound.

 

“Does that hurt?” he asked, still not breaking eye contact with Dean.

 

Dean shook his head and swallowed, apparently unable to speak. Castiel would have been amused, but the look that Dean was giving him was difficult to ignore. There was _hunger_ in Dean’s eyes.

 

Castiel didn’t shy away from Dean’s gaze, but met it full on with his own, trying hard to keep his face blank. This was difficult, especially when he placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder to hold it in place and the hunter’s mouth fell open slightly in response, the skin between his eyebrows pinching.

 

The muscles of Dean’s chest were hard, his skin hot beneath Castiel’s fingers.

 

“Let me know if it hurts,” Castiel said, and for some reason his voice came out as a whisper, as though he didn’t want to break whatever was hanging between them.

 

Dean swallowed and nodded.

 

“It… it feels good,” Dean murmured back, and then looked flustered. “I mean it, um, feels like it’s healing up well… that green stuff is good.”

 

“Good,” Castiel replied.

 

But even with Dean’s cheeks flushed, the unspoken tension didn’t dissipate, and Castiel didn’t stop rubbing even though there was plenty of paste on Dean’s chest now.

 

“I think, um,” Dean started, raising his hand and placing it cautiously on Castiel’s shoulder. “It would be better if you pushed a little harder.”

 

And he drew Castiel closer to him. Castiel felt his eyes go wide and his breathing hitch. Their faces were now very close, and he could see that hunger in Dean’s eyes, see that primal, animal shadow in them that both excited and scared him.

 

“If that’s okay,” Dean murmured, and Castiel felt the whisper of his breath over his lips.

 

He could do no more than nod in response.

 

They stayed like that for a few moments, Castiel’s hand on Dean’s warm chest, their lips inches apart, until Castiel was almost dizzy with it.

 

“Ouch!” Dean winced, and the spell was broken.

 

Castiel sat back quickly, his eyes wide.

 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he gushed, his voice an octave higher than usual as he withdrew his hands from Dean’s chest.

 

In his distraction, he’d pushed too hard on Dean’s wound.

 

“S’okay,” Dean muttered, his voice slightly thick as he closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the cave wall.

 

For a brief moment Castiel was distracted by the sight of Dean’s exposed throat, his sharp jawline. And then he remembered what he was doing.

 

He hurriedly dabbed at the wound, which had reopened slightly thanks to his error. But the bleeding didn’t last, the paste was already doing its job. Castiel was able to bind the set of bandages which he’d cleaned earlier around Dean’s chest, the hunter moving his arms as Castiel instructed him to; another distraction as the exposed muscles of Dean’s torso moved with him.

 

“I’ll just get this packed away,” Castiel said, in an overly casual voice.

 

He was glad that the problem in his pants had died down as soon as he’d hurt Dean, because it would have been very embarrassing to stand up with it. He took longer than he needed to in packing away the healing kit, reorganising the item’s positions several times before he couldn’t avoid looking up at Dean any longer.

 

The hunter had his t-shirt back on and was staring at the merl light, his bedroll pulled up over his shoulders.

 

“Are you hungry?” Castiel asked, still crouched over his pack.

 

Dean started, and blinked around at him.

 

“Oh,” he said, “yeah sure.”

 

They spent the rest of the evening being overly polite to one another, as though they hadn’t spent the last couple of nights together or shared a near death experience, but had just met that day.

 

It made Castiel a little sad, and he wished he hadn’t let himself get caught up in the moment. He had enjoyed Dean’s companionship, had started to think of him as a friend, and now he’d ruined it. The hole between Castiel’s ribs yawned.

 

They went to bed earlier than usual, planning on getting a few hours sleep before setting off at first light. Dean placed the merl light between them, bade Castiel goodnight, and turned to face the wall. Castiel lay on his back in his bedroll, staring into the darkness above him.

 

How could he have been so stupid? Just because Dean was bi, didn’t mean that he was interested in Castiel. Why would he be? Castiel had no experience to speak of, and Dean was amazingly good looking and fun to be with. He’d probably want someone funny and equally attractive, and Castiel wasn’t exactly witty.

 

He huffed out an annoyed sigh, turning to lie on his side. It took Castiel a long time to fall asleep that night.

 

* * *

 

Castiel wasn’t sure what had woken him at first. He blinked around groggily in the dark, wondering why he’d stirred in the middle of the night. Then he heard Dean moan.

 

Castiel whirled around, expecting to see Dean awake and in pain. But instead the sight he saw confused him. Dean’s sleeping face was illuminated by the soft glow of the merl light. It was scrunched up, still asleep, but looking distressed.

 

Castiel stared uncomprehending for a moment, then it hit him. Dean was having a nightmare. The hunter twitched in his sleep and let out the smallest of whimpers, his mouth falling open slightly. Castiel hesitated. Should he wake his companion? Surely Dean wouldn’t mind if he did, Castiel knew that he’d want to be woken if he was having a nightmare.

 

But just as Castiel had decided to wake him, Dean let out another noise, and this one was a word.

 

“Cas,” Dean moaned.

 

Castiel froze. He stared at Dean. Was the hunter having a nightmare that Castiel was hurting him? Or perhaps Castiel was the one being hurt in his dream.

 

Before he could consider it for too long, Dean rolled onto his back.

 

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean panted, his face pinched. “Don’t stop.”

 

Castiel’s felt blood rush to his face as understanding hit him for the second time. Dean wasn’t having a nightmare about Castiel. No he was having a much better dream. One that, by the sound of it, was giving him a lot of pleasure.

 

Now he really didn’t know what to do. Dean’s breathing was coming out ragged and uneven, and as Castiel watched, his back arched slightly up from the floor.

 

“Mnmm,” Dean mumbled, his forehead pinched.

 

Castiel became aware of a very obvious bulge in Dean’s bedroll, and he felt his face go even redder. He lay back down quickly and turned away. He had no right to spy on Dean like this, Dean couldn’t control his dreams after all. Besides, Castiel reasoned, it probably didn’t mean anything. It was probably just because Castiel had been the only living person that didn’t want to kill him that Dean had seen in days. What’s more, Castiel thought as he tried to block out the little moans from behind him, there’d been the whole episode with the paste shortly before Dean had gone to sleep.

 

It was a little while before Dean fell silent, by which time Castiel was so flustered that he couldn’t go back to sleep. What’s more he had his own problem in his pants now. He cursed himself again in his head and thought of every gross thing he could think of until it went away. This wasn’t too hard, considering the things he’s seen so recently below the mountain. But the rest of his sleep was broken and light, and he woke to the slightest noise.

 

By the time dawn came, Castiel was groggy and exhausted.

 

“Morning,” Dean trilled, looking well rested and happy as he brushed his teeth.

 

Castiel mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over to face the wall, hiding his face from the early dawn light.

 

“Oi,” Dean scolded, and he threw a pair of socks at Castiel’s head.

 

Castiel turned and scowled at him.

 

“What?” he asked sharply.

 

“I made breakfast,” Dean replied. “Get your lazy ass up and eat it. We need to move before those men wake.”

 

“I’m not lazy,” Castiel huffed, sitting up in his bedroll, his hair sticking in every direction. “I was just disturbed all night by your noises.”

 

Dean looked puzzled, pausing his teeth brushing.

 

“Noises?” he asked, and Castiel instantly regretted the retort he’d made in the heat of the moment. “Was I snoring?”

 

“No you were just…” Castiel hesitated, wondering what the best cover was. “Having a nightmare.”

 

“Oh,” Dean said, resuming his brushing so his words were muffled. “Well why didn’t you wake me, man? That’s cold, just letting me dream about witches and shit.”

 

“Witches?” Castiel asked, confused.

 

“I hate witches,” Dean said with a shudder. “They’re always spewing their bodily fluids everywhere… It’s creepy, y’know, it’s downright unsanitary!”

 

“Okay, okay,” Castiel interjected, putting his hands up in surrender. “I shall hitherto wake you when you’re having a nightmare.”

 

“Good,” Dean said. “Glad we got that sorted. Would you hitherto like some bacon?”

 

“You’re using that phrase incorrectly,” Castiel replied before he spotted the grin on Dean’s face.

 

“I’m just messing with you, man,” Dean chuckled. “You do talk like a robot though.”

 

“I do not,” Castiel retorted, slightly affronted. “I’m very affable.”

 

“Hmmmm, robot.” Dean grinned. “Act a little like one too, you’ve only not been like one when—”

 

But Dean broke off sharply, a slight flush arising in his cheeks, and Castiel realised the moment which Dean was thinking of.

 

“Well I’ll try to be less robot like and wake you from nightmares henceforth,” Castiel said to fill the silence, which only made Dean grin and mutter something involving the word henceforth.

 

After eating and washing themselves, Dean as exhibitionist as ever, they set off.

 

There were more clouds than yesterday. The sky behind them was still dark when they left the cave, but it faded to light blue on the eastern horizon. They climbed higher rather than descending to the valley, although kept just below the peaks so their silhouettes wouldn't be spotted against the brightening sky.

 

Castiel had been concentrating on walking, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety in his chest, when Dean took his hand. Castiel looked up at him in surprise. The hunter smiled at him and gave his hand a quick squeeze before letting it go.

 

The knot in Castiel's chest seemed to loosen slightly. He walked on feeling braver as birds started to sing in the dawn light.

 

They didn't stop for hours, and by the time they did set their bags down in a gathering of trees, Castiel was exhausted. He flopped down next to his pack and watched as Dean wandered off towards a stream which must've flowed down from the mountains.

 

“We’re losing height,” Dean stated as he filled his and Castiel’s canteens with water.

 

“Is that bad?” Castiel asked, slipping off his boots to massage his feet.

 

“No,” Dean replied. “Just saying. It might be easier going to stay low until our next stop.”

 

“When will that be?” Castiel asked as Dean rejoined him by the packs.

 

“A day or so,” Dean shrugged.

 

He handed Castiel’s canteen back to him before taking a swig of his own.

 

Castiel lay back against the leaf strewn grass, letting his muscles relax. The trees stirred with a gentle breeze, sunlight falling through their leaves, which were fading to yellow. He watched a squirrel launch itself from one tree to the next, scampering up the thinnest of branches.

 

He turned to Dean, opening his mouth to ask if they should have lunch, but he stopped. Dean was staring at Castiel’s stomach. Castiel was confused for a moment, before he realised that his sweater had risen up slightly to expose a strip of his midriff. He hurriedly went to pull it down, but Dean grabbed his hand.

 

“What did he do to you?” Dean asked in a whisper, and when Castiel looked up into his face, he saw an anger there such as he'd never seen before.

 

“It's nothing,” Castiel said, and he pushed Dean’s hand aside as he pulled his sweater down and sat up.

 

Dean looked up at him, and Castiel saw that the anger was still there, green fire in his eyes.

 

“Nothing,” Dean choked out in a strangled voice. “Cas, it looks like someone's had a good go at you with a sword.”

 

Dean’s voice rose as he spoke, but Castiel remained calm.

 

“Not exactly,” he said. “It was more like a dagger.”

 

Dean looked thunderstruck. He stood up suddenly, and Castiel stared up at him in surprise. Dean looked as though he wasn't sure what to do with himself, he paced a few times, running his hands through his hair, and then returned to kneel in front of Castiel. His eyes were desperate.

 

“What happened?” he asked.

 

Castiel eyed him warily, wondering what he'd do if he told him the truth. Then he sighed.

 

“Michael performed certain… experiments on me,” he said calmly.

 

Dean let out a little moan. His face crumpled.

 

“Why?” he whispered.

 

“From what I gathered,” Castiel said slowly. “He thought I could help prolong his life. I'm not sure exactly how, but it seemed to have something to do with what I can do.”

 

At this Castiel stretched a hand out. A tree root curled up to meet it, and Castiel stroked it absentmindedly, as though it were a pet.

 

“That's sick,” Dean said, disgusted. “That's really sick.”

 

Castiel looked away, feeling suddenly dirty and ashamed.

 

“I didn't mean you,” Dean said quickly, reaching out a hand and touching Castiel's lightly. “I meant Michael. I swear if I ever get my hands on him…”

 

Castiel continued to stroke the tree root, not looking at Dean.

 

“C’mere,” Dean said after a moment.

 

Castiel looked up at him, confused.

 

“Come on,” Dean took both of Castiel’s hands and drew him to his feet.

 

Castiel looked up at him questioning. Dean looked as though he were hesitating on the brink of something.

 

“Dean, wha—” Castiel was abruptly cut off by Dean’s lips on his own.

 

He was so surprised that it took a moment for him to react, but when he realised what was going on he snaked his arms around Dean’s back, his lips pressing hard against Dean’s. The kiss was desperate, it held all of the hunger that he’d seen in Dean’s eyes, and all of the aching hollowness that Castiel held in his own chest.

 

Dean’s lips were warm against his own, soft but slightly chapped. His fingers were in Castiel’s hair, tilting his head back, opening Castiel up to him. Castiel let out a little moan as Dean worked a trail down over his chin to the exposed skin of Castiel’s throat. Castiel’s legs shook, but Dean held him tightly, his tongue hot on the pulse below Castiel’s ear.

 

“Dean,” Castiel let out the name in a little moan, unsure what he was begging for but begging all the same.

 

Dean mouthed a trail down Castiel’s front, until he was kneeling before Castiel. He looked up then, his green eyes filled with desire and his hands on Castiel’s hips. Very slowly, watching Castiel’s face for any sign of distress, Dean lifted the hem of Castiel’s sweater. Then he placed the lightest of kisses on the scar on Castiel’s abdomen. Castiel’s eyes rolled back.

 

“Is this okay?” Dean asked, his voice quiet.

 

Castiel nodded vigorously, seeing the little smirk appear on Dean’s lips before he placed them back on Castiel’s stomach. Castiel buried his hands in Dean’s hair as the hunter mouthed along the scar, which ran from one hipbone to the other.

 

“You’re beautiful,” Dean whispered against the skin of Castiel’s stomach.

 

Castiel’s heart lurched, and his fingers tightened in Dean’s hair before he released it completely and buried his face in his hands.

 

“Cas?” Dean asked, his voice concerned.

 

Castiel only let out a little sob in response, and he heard Dean hurriedly getting to his feet.

 

“Cas, what’s wrong?” Dean pulled one of his hands away from his face and held it, but Castiel still sobbed into the other one.

 

“Cas, you’re kinda freaking me out here, man,” Dean said with a nervous laugh. “Am I that bad a kisser?”

 

Castiel let out a strangled little laugh and shook his head.

 

“Well what then?” Dean asked.

 

Castiel took a few deep breaths, trying to regain some control and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Dean waited patiently, still holding one of Castiel’s hands.

 

“Sorry,” Castiel mumbled after a moment. “It’s not you, that was.... Really nice.”

 

Dean laughed, and reached up to wipe a tear away from Castiel’s cheek. He left his hand there, warm against the side of Castiel’s face. It felt so real, Dean’s hands, his mouth, the way he was looking at him. Castiel wasn’t sure why it was all coming out now, maybe because the reality of having Dean made the reality of having no-one for so long so painfully obvious.

 

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Dean asked, lightly tilting Castiel’s face up so he could meet his eyes.

 

“I— I don’t know,” Castiel stuttered. “Sorry, I’m awful at this.”

 

“You’re not as bad as you think,” Dean said with a smile. “Besides from the crying it was a pretty good first kiss.”

 

“Yeah,” Castiel said, giving Dean a shaky smile. “Pretty good for my first kiss.”

 

Dean looked momentarily confused, and then comprehension dawned on him.

 

“Oh,” he said after a moment, letting his hand drop.

 

Castiel felt his stomach drop too. He was such an idiot, of course Dean wanted someone with more experience. Dean caught sight of Castiel’s expression.

 

“No, no, no, hey,” he said hurriedly, catching Castiel’s other hand and drawing both hands up to press kisses to his knuckles. “I just meant… I should have asked you before just taking your first kiss, I mean that’s a pretty big deal.”

 

“But I’m glad it was you,” Castiel said, confused as he searched Dean’s eyes.

 

A grin broke out over Dean’s face.

 

“Gee, Cas,” he chuckled. “You sure know how to sweet talk a guy.”

 

“I’m just…” Castiel hesitated, looking for the right words. “A bit of a mess.”

 

He looked away then, blinking rapidly as the tree trunk he was staring at went blurry. Dean took his chin and guided him gently back to look at him.

 

“Join the club,” Dean said, smiling softly at him. “I’m the freakin’ king of fucked up.”

 

Then he kissed him again, pulling Castiel tightly against himself, leaning forwards so Castiel was slightly bent backwards as he gripped the front of Dean’s jacket.

 

The hole in Castiel’s chest felt a lot smaller. In fact, as they settled onto the grass, Castiel’s head on Dean’s shoulder as they played with each others fingers, he couldn’t feel it at all.

 

“I wanted you the moment I saw you,” Dean murmured, twisting to place a kiss on the top of Castiel’s head.

 

“Really?” Castiel said, sitting up straight so he could look at Dean’s profile.

 

Dean was smiling at the memory, staring at a blade of grass as he twirled it between the fingertips of his free hand.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “You were so fierce, sitting there with your bow. You looked like you were ready to kill me. I’m pretty sharp with the reflexes but you managed to get the drop on me.”

 

“How is that attractive?” Castiel asked, frowning at the side of Dean’s face that he could see.

 

Dean shrugged, still smiling at the strand of grass and giving Castiel’s hand a squeeze.

 

“Just is,” he said. “Plus you’re freakin’ gorgeous.”

 

Dean turned to grin at Castiel, who felt his face flush.

 

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I thought you were very attractive too, once I realised you weren’t trying to kill or capture me.”

 

Dean laughed and kissed Castiel again. Castiel wondered if he’d ever get bored of kissing Dean. He couldn’t imagine it. In fact he now considered it his favourite pastime.

 

Dean abandoned his blade of grass, instead pushing Castiel onto his back, his lips never leaving Castiel’s. Castiel ran his fingers up through the back of Dean’s hair, making him shiver as he held himself over Castiel.

 

He started working a trail down Castiel’s neck again, making Castiel’s breathing uneven and his mouth fall open slightly. Dean slipped a hand under Castiel’s sweater and the t-shirt beneath it, placing it on the skin of Castiel’s hip.

 

“Is this okay?” Dean asked, looking up at Castiel for permission.

 

Castiel nodded, and Dean resumed mouthing at the side of Castiel’s neck, his thumb drawing a line over the hollow of Castiel’s hipbone. Then ever so lightly, Dean bit down on the side of Castiel’s neck.

 

“Oh, fuck, Dean,” Castiel moaned.

 

He pulled Dean sharply down against himself, before pushing him suddenly away, sitting up quickly. Dean looked surprised at finding himself sitting upright and being held away by Castiel’s outstretched hands.

 

“Sorry,” Castiel panted, his cheeks flushed and his hair a mess. “I don’t know what happened.”

 

“S’alright,” Dean said, smiling at Castiel.

 

When Castiel didn’t return the smile, he took his hands and held them in his lap.

 

“Honestly it’s fine, man,” Dean said, giving Castiel’s hands a little shake. “It’s your first time doing any of this stuff. We’ll take it slow. I promise I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

 

Castiel smiled up at Dean, feeling relieved.

 

“I suck at this,” Castiel said after a moment.

 

Dean laughed, and Castiel couldn’t help cracking a smile.

 

“You really don’t,” Dean said, leaning over to give Castiel a light peck on the lips. “You’re just new to it. C’mon, we better keep walking.”

 

Dean stood up, but Castiel stayed seated. Dean looked down at him questioningly.

 

“I— I need a moment,” Castiel muttered, his face reddening.

 

Dean looked confused for a second, and then his face broke into a grin. He hurriedly knelt back down in front of Castiel and buried his face in his neck.

 

“You have no idea how hot that is,” Dean murmured, his mouth wet and hot against the side of Castiel’s neck.

 

“Stop,” Castiel laughed. “You’re not helping things.”

 

“Mmm, I have no intention of helping. Unless… you need a helping hand?”

 

Castiel felt Dean’s grin against his neck and laughed.

 

“Not yet,” Castiel said, and twisted his head to peck Dean on the neck. “Now get off me, I need to think of something disgusting.”

 

Dean laughed and stood up, going over to his pack to pull out some nuts and berries for them to share. After a moment, Castiel followed, and they set off.

 

They walked side by side through the trees, which alternated between sunny and shady as the clouds drifted through the sky. Somehow they ended up holding hands, though Castiel couldn’t think who initiated it. He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face, it stayed with him all through the trees and out the other side. The breeze ruffled his hair, and although it wasn’t the warmest of days, the exertion of walking meant they were fine.

 

They changed Dean’s bandage again, a task made difficult by the fact that Dean kept distracting Castiel as he tried to work, and they both ended up covered in the green paste. He collected any plant he recognised as being medicinal, the paste having been so useful.

 

As they got lower, they started to see signs of life. Sheep herders huts and their flocks broke into the wilderness with a comforting sense of homely civilisation. Dean seemed buoyed by their peaceful day. Or perhaps, Castiel thought hopefully, it was that he could kiss Castiel any time he wanted. And he did, small pecks on the cheek that, according to Dean, turned Castiel an “adorable” shade of pink. At one point when Castiel had been absentmindedly staring out across the windswept valley, Dean had caught him and plunged him into a dip.

 

“Wha—” Castiel had started, alarmed at finding himself practically horizontal and clinging to the front of Dean’s jacket.

  
But Dean had cut him off with a kiss so intense that it stole Castiel’s breath away, and when Dean had set him back on his feet Castiel had staggered slightly. Dean laughed at Castiel’s dazed expression as he steadied him. And Castiel wondered what he'd done to deserve being this happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ಠ⌣ಠ


	7. Chapter Seven

As night encroached upon the evening, Dean and Castiel headed into an abandoned barn. The roof had caved in in one place, and there were pigeons roosting in the rafters, but it was warmer than sleeping outside.

 

Dean scuffed his feet through the straw that still lay on the floor and walked over to the the back of the barn.

 

“I think it's warmest back here,” he called over his shoulder to Castiel, who was examining the rusty farming equipment that had been left behind on a work-table.

 

Castiel jumped slightly as Dean’s arms snaked around his waist.

 

“Hey, jumpy,” Dean murmured, resting his head on Castiel’s shoulder. “What you looking at?”

 

“These tools for farming,” Castiel gestured to the sheers and other implements lain out on the table.

 

“Fascinating,” Dean said sarcastically, and gave Castiel’s ear a little nip. “Come keep me company whilst I make a fire, we could get drunk and handsy, I'm very good at both.”

 

Dean’s lips brushed Castiel's neck as he spoke, his breath hot. Castiel let his head fall back against Dean’s shoulder, closing his eyes as Dean’s hands slipped lower on his stomach.

 

“That… that sounds nice,” Castiel’s voice quavered as Dean kissed his neck, his hands slipping under Castiel’s sweater to draw a line from one hipbone to the other with his fingers.

 

Castiel shuddered, his mouth falling open slightly as Dean’s fingertips stroked the skin just above the waistline of his jeans.

 

“Is this okay?” Dean murmured, his voice low and hungry in Castiel’s ear.

 

Castiel swallowed and nodded, unable to find words that expressed just how okay it was. It was more than okay, it was fantastic.

 

He placed a hand gently over one of Dean’s, and stretched up with the other to cup one side of Dean’s face as he worked kisses up the side of Castiel’s neck. His chest was solid and warm against Castiel’s back.

 

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable with any of this,” Dean said softly, his lips leaving a trail of goosebumps on Castiel’s neck as he spoke. “I won’t mind… I want you to be 100% comfortable with anything we do.”

 

Castiel nodded again, and let out a desperate whimper as Dean gently bit the side of his neck. His body gave an involuntary jerk and he felt Dean grin against the skin of his neck.

 

“Dean,” Castiel gasped, and pushed his body back against the hunter’s.

 

He could feel Dean getting hard through his jeans, and Dean grunted in surprise and pleasure at the sudden contact.

 

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean growled against his skin. “You have no idea how much I want you.”

 

“Oh I think I have some idea,” Castiel said, his voice low as he ground his hips back into Dean’s hardness.

 

Dean groaned, his torso folding slightly so that they were bent forwards for a moment. Then Dean straightened, drawing Castiel with him. He took a handful of Castiel’s hair and gently pulled his head back so he could bite Castiel’s neck again.

 

Castiel’s knees nearly gave way at this.

 

“Oh God,” Castiel moaned. “Dean, touch me, please, Dean.”

 

Dean buried his face in Castiel’s hair as his hand slipped down to his crotch. Castiel nearly collapsed forwards, and grabbed the work-table, which was conveniently at hip height, for support as Dean cupped his hardening package.

 

“Mmm you’re big,” Dean growled, gently pulling Castiel’s head back again by his hair, making his mouth fall open.

 

Castiel whimpered and trembled as Dean rubbed him. He couldn’t believe how good it felt to have someone else touch him. To have Dean’s heat, and mouth, and body pressed against him. To have Dean’s hand rubbing his cock through his jeans, and to feel Dean’s excitement pressed against his ass, and know that it was for him. It was all for him.

 

Dean spun him around suddenly, catching him before he could topple over, and pushed him backwards to sit on the work-table. Then Dean was kissing him, and Castiel was pushing his hips forwards, his hands in Dean’s hair, Dean’s hands under Castiel’s top, Dean’s fingertips digging into his back as he gripped him, their breathing erratic, and Castiel was shaking, oh god he was shaking so bad.

 

Dean slowed suddenly. He tore his lips away and leant his forehead against Castiel’s. Castiel’s hands dropped from Dean’s hair to his chest. They were both breathing heavily.

 

“Why did you stop?” Castiel asked, feeling a bit dizzy as he leant back slightly to look at Dean.

 

Dean’s eyes were bright, his cheeks slightly flushed and his lips swollen.

 

“Because I wanted to look at you,” Dean said, as though it were the simplest thing in the world. As though the words didn’t tear into Castiel and have him nearly breaking down all over again. As though Dean wanting to look at Castiel was as obvious as Castiel wanting to look at the sky after fourteen years without it. As though looking at Castiel was all Dean had ever wanted.

 

Then Dean placed his hands on either side of Castiel’s head, thumb and finger on his cheeks and three fingers on his neck. And he kissed Castiel. Achingly slow and full of something unsaid that Castiel could taste on Dean’s mouth even though it never formed the words. And Castiel could feel it in his chest, so overwhelming it nearly suffocated him.

 

Then Dean leant back, his hands trailing down Castiel’s shoulders to his hips. Castiel blinked around dazedly, seeing the amused little quirk of Dean’s lips as he took in Castiel’s state.

 

“May I?” Dean asked, gripping the edge of Castiel’s sweater.

 

Castiel’s breathing hitched, and he nodded.

 

Dean drew the sweater and the t-shirt beneath it off at the same time. Castiel raised his arms to allow Dean to pull them over his head and then wrapped them around himself.

 

“Hey,” Dean said softly, unfolding Castiel’s arms from around himself. “Why are you hiding?”

 

Castiel shrugged.

 

“I’m just not used to others seeing me… in a state of undress,” Castiel said quietly, shuddering as Dean ran his fingertips over his bare chest.

 

“Do you want to stop?” Dean asked, his fingers pausing.

 

Castiel shook his head.

 

“No,” he said. “Sorry I’ll get better at this, I promise.”

 

“Shhh…” Dean hushed him, catching Castiel’s chin and tilting his head back to give him the softest of kisses. “Don’t apologise. We’re going at your pace, remember?”

 

Castiel nodded, and Dean smoothed his thumb over his chin before releasing it. His fingers resumed their trail down Castiel’s chest, and Castiel saw the hunger in Dean’s eyes as they followed. His body gave another jerk and Dean’s fingers trailed low over his stomach.

 

“May I?” Dean asked again, his fingers resting on the button of Castiel’s jeans.

 

Castiel bit his lip, and nodded again. Dean looked triumphant at this, and undid Castiel’s jeans with expert fingers. Castiel raised himself slightly off the work-table to allow Dean to pull them off, his shoes and socks going with them. Dean discarded the clothing, his eyes fixed on Castiel’s crotch.

 

“Fuck,” Dean groaned, and there was something animal in his voice.

 

Their eyes met, and Castiel could see Dean watching him closely for any sign of discomfort. Dean pushed his hands up Castiel’s thighs, drawing nearer to him as he did. Castiel’s chest heaved as Dean paused with his fingertips edging under the leg holes of Castiel’s boxers.

 

“Yes?” Dean asked, and Castiel nodded for the last time.

 

Dean slipped his hand up under Castiel’s boxer shorts and took hold of his cock. Castiel’s back arched and his head fell back, one hand flying automatically to grip Dean’s shoulder as the other grabbed the edge of the table. Dean gripped Castiel’s cock with just the right amount of pressure, his thumb rubbing over the base of the head as he slowly started to work the shaft.

 

Castiel let out a choked moan, his fingers digging into Dean’s shoulder slightly as his chest heaved. Dean leant forward and took advantage of Castiel’s exposed throat by latching his mouth to it. He sucked and bit as he rubbed Castiel’s cock, drawing more moans and shudders from him.

 

Castiel hooked his legs around Dean’s thighs, drawing him closer as he pushed his hips up into Dean’s. Dean let out a curse as their hips met, his forehead resting on Castiel’s shoulder as he sped up his hand on Castiel’s dick.

 

“Dean,” Castiel choked out as the friction had him gasping for air, his eyes wide and his hand nearly slipping from where it gripped the table edge.

 

Dean looked up, that green fire in his eyes and his breathing heavy as he watched Castiel moan and writhe under his touch.

 

“Look at me,” Dean commanded, and Castiel obeyed with a whimper.

 

Dean’s other hand slid up under Castiel’s boxers and unexpectedly cupped Castiel’s balls. Castiel came with a cry of Dean’s name, his eyes sliding shut for a moment and his back arching. Dean continued to work him through the waves of his orgasm, his hungry eyes watching as Castiel’s body was wracked with violent tremors.

 

Castiel was twitching and jerking as Dean slowly came to a stop. He was panting as though he'd just ran for miles, and the kiss they shared was sloppy and heated and exhausted. Castiel’s limbs were loose and compliant as Dean slid him off the table and guided him over to where their packs sat at the back of the barn.

 

Castiel changed into some clean boxers and a loose set of linen trousers behind a hay bail. When he emerged, still topless, Dean didn't say anything about how ridiculous it was that Castiel still wanted to change in private when Dean had just brought him to climax. Instead he drank in Castiel’s bare torso and beckoned for him to come over to where he'd managed to get a fire started.

 

“I appreciate the toplessness,” Dean said with a grin, as he made room between his legs for Castiel to sit.

 

“I had intended upon finding a shirt,” Castiel informed him, leaning back to rest against Dean’s chest.

 

“Unnecessary,” Dean replied happily, laying a kiss upon Castiel’s bare shoulder. “The fire’s warm and I'm one toasty fuck.”

 

“I have yet to confirm that,” Castiel said with a sly smile.

 

There was a pause, and then Dean burst out laughing.

 

“I tell ya,” Dean chuckled. “If you'd have told me you'd be making sex jokes about me a few days ago I'd have told you to get lost.”

 

“You didn't want me to make sex jokes about you?” Castiel asked, slightly concerned.

 

“Of course I did,” Dean scoffed, nuzzling his face into Castiel's neck and wrapping his arms around his waist as he spoke. “Just didn't think you would.”

 

“Speaking of which,” Castiel started, his fingertips tracing a pattern on the back of Dean’s hand. “I never returned the favour.”

 

“Don't worry about it,” Dean said, his voice slightly muffled from the crook of Castiel’s neck. “Mine’s gone away now and we’ll get to that. I'm very much enjoying watching you squirm for now… and being your first.”

 

“Well this may not mean much as I have no experience, but you're a very good first,” Castiel said.

 

Dean laughed and pecked Castiel’s shoulder again.

 

They stayed up chatting late into the night. Dean lamented the lack of marshmallows for the fire but was thrilled when Castiel produced a bar of chocolate from his bag.

 

They undid the ties of their bedrolls and then tied them to each other along the opening, forming one giant bedroll. They climbed in to eat their chocolate, legs entangled together. Dean fussed about being too hot before removing his top and jeans, and Castiel was again treated to the view of Dean’s naked torso. Now he was allowed to stare, and drank in as much as he could, placing kisses on the freckles of Dean’s chest and shoulders, so that Dean hummed with pleasure.

 

Castiel didn't think he'd ever laughed as much as he did that night. Dean had a way with words and with timing that had Castiel’s sides aching. Dean stopped at one point, and when Castiel’s laughter had died down enough to twist his head to look at him, he saw that Dean was watching him with a small smile on his face.

 

“What?” Castiel asked from where he lay on his back, unable to help the responding smile that cracked across his lips.

 

“Nothing,” Dean said, lying on his side to face Castiel. “You just sort of… light up when you laugh. That sounded dumb, but it's true. You're beautiful.”

 

A flush rose to Castiel’s cheeks and he gave Dean an embarrassed smile.

 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, rolling onto his side so their face were inches apart. “You're really very beautiful yourself.”

 

“Shut up,” Dean snorted.

 

“No, Dean, it's true,” Castiel said defiantly. “I've never met anyone as beautiful as you.”

 

“Well that’s just bullshit,” Dean said, even though he was grinning as he made a sloppy grab at Castiel’s head to kiss the top of it.

 

He left his arm there, curled protectively around Castiel’s head as Castiel kissed the hollow between Dean’s collarbones. The fire crackled in the silence, throwing shapes onto the wall of the barn.

 

“I’m actually happy,” Castiel whispered after a moment.

 

Dean moved away slightly to look at him, his fingers playing with Castiel’s hair. The fire lit the gold amongst the green of Dean’s eyes, and threw his already well defined cheekbones into sharp relief.

 

“Did you not expect to be?” Dean asked, his voice soft and his expression concerned.

 

“Not especially,” Castiel murmured, watching his fingers as they traced the line of Dean’s collarbone, the tanned skin golden brown in the light of the fire. “I sort of got used to being sad. Hannah made it a bit better, but even with her friendship I was deeply lonely.”

 

There was silence again and the fire popped. After a moment Dean leant forward and kissed Castiel. It was slow and soft, Dean’s thumb in the hollow of Castiel’s cheek. He seemed to be trying to blot out Castiel’s loneliness, to fill it up with his lips and his hands and his warmth, to make him forget with the intoxicating taste of his mouth. It was the sort of kiss that hurt for all of the right reasons.

 

Castiel let out a little moan and Dean released him from the kiss. It took Castiel a moment to open his eyes, and when he did he saw Dean giving him that intense stare that made Castiel feel as though he was really being seen.

 

Dean smoothed his thumb over Castiel’s bottom lip, and leant to place one more peck to his mouth before wrapping him in his arms.

 

“Goodnight, you strange little creature,” Dean murmured, his voice humming through his throat which rested against Castiel's forehead.

 

Castiel smiled and closed his eyes.

 

“Goodnight, Dean.”


	8. Chapter 8

It took Castiel a moment to realise what the warm solid thing that he had his arms around was when he awoke the next morning. It also took him a moment to realise why he was so ridiculously happy. And then the two things collided in his head, and he realised that the reason he was so happy was _because_ of the warm solid thing he was holding.

 

Castiel leant back from where he’d been tucked under Dean’s chin so he could see his face. Dean’s breathing was slow, his features calm in sleep. Castiel watched as Dean’s eyelids fluttered slightly, dreams disturbing his peace. Then Dean sighed and drew Castiel back towards him, still asleep as he unconsciously folded Castiel against his chest.

 

Castiel smiled to himself, content to be tucked back under Dean’s chin. He lay like that for a long time, listening to Dean’s steady heartbeat as the sky grew brighter through the hole in the roof.

 

After at least half an hour, Dean stirred. Castiel pressed his lips to Dean’s chest, making him hum contentedly.

 

“Mornin’,” Dean said thickly, giving Castiel a squeeze before sighing and relaxing back into his languid state.

 

Castiel stretched up to kiss Dean, who returned the kiss without opening his eyes, apparently intent on going back to sleep. Castiel went to climb out of the bedroll, but Dean’s grip on him tightened.

 

“As nice as this is Dean, I need to use the bathroom,” Castiel stated, his face pressed into Dean’s neck. “Or the field as the case may be.”

 

“Piss here, I don’t mind,” Dean mumbled.

 

“That would be highly unsanitary,” Castiel pointed out. “And I think we would find a bedroll soaked in urine most uncomfortable.”

 

Dean’s chest shook with silent laughter and Castiel leant back to get a look at him.

 

“You are of course joking,” Castiel said, mostly to himself. “And I seem to have missed the intended meaning.”

 

Dean opened his eyes and grinned at Castiel.

 

“There's that robot voice, you odd little creature,” he chuckled, leaning forward to give Castiel a heated kiss that almost made him forget about his bladder needs.

 

Castiel broke away and untangled himself from Dean, who promptly nestled back down into the bedroll. Castiel scrambled out into the cold of the barn, grabbing a sweater from where it lay discarded on top of his pack.

 

The fire had died down in the night, the embers smoldering in the ashes. Castiel picked his way over the straw strewn floor barefoot, only now noticing how many gaps there were in the roof and walls of the barn besides the large hole. They were lucky it hadn’t rained in the night.

 

Dustmotes, drunk with sunlight as they dipped in and out if it, swirled around him as he went. The rusty tools that he and Dean had scattered the previous night still lay on the floor by the work-table.

 

Castiel reached the door or the barn and pushed it back on creaking hinges, just far enough that he could slip out. He breathed in the fresh air, and although it was unlikely to be a hot day this late in the year, the morning sun was still warm on his face. Castiel basked in it for a moment, his eyes closed, before picking his way through the grass to a clump of trees at the back of the barn. The trees were alight with fiery red, yellow, and orange leaves.

 

After relieving himself, Castiel made his way back towards the front of the barn. Just as he was about to step out from the shade of the trees, he spotted something that made him draw back.

 

People were cresting the hill in the distance. Castiel squinted at them, crouching behind a bush to conceal himself. There were five of them, and he couldn’t be sure but they looked like the men who had been hunting him back in the valley. He waited until they’d dropped out of sight behind another hill, and then sprinted back to the door of the barn. He wrenched it open, flinging himself inside. Dean looked up in surprise as Castiel ran over to him, read the look of panic on his face and instantly scrambled out of the bedroll.

 

“What is it?” Dean asked, coming to meet him and gripping his shoulders, his determined hunter look setting his face into a stern frown. Castiel felt the rumble of his deep voice calm him slightly, despite the hilarity of Dean being ready to defend him whilst wearing nothing but boxers.

 

“The men from the valley, I think,” Castiel panted, a bit out of breath from his run. “They were in the nearby hills. They looked like they were coming this way.”

 

“But I covered our tracks,” Dean said, his frown deepening.

 

“Well it looks like they picked up on them anyway,” Castiel said, throwing his hands up slightly before letting them flop back to his sides.

 

“Or they had help,” Dean said darkly, turning and crossing back to the conjoined bedrolls.

 

He started rolling them up haphazardly, a task made more difficult by the size of the double roll. Castiel hurried to help him, and together they stuffed it and their other items into their packs, before pulling their shoes on.

 

Dean, now fully clothed and with his pack on his shoulders, went to the tools he and Castiel had disturbed the night before. He snatched up the large pair of shears, which were rusty but still looked lethal, and then crossed to the door of the barn. He pushed it open just enough to peer through it.

 

“I can’t see them,” he muttered, and pushed the door open a little more to poke his head gingerly around it. “Okay I think we’re clear.”

 

Castiel followed Dean out of the barn, and together they hurried into the cover of the trees. They ran for some way, leaves crunching under foot. When Castiel started to lag, Dean caught his hand and half dragged him with him.

 

When they eventually stopped the trees were thinning, sky visible through their fiery leaves.

 

“Are you okay?” Dean asked as Castiel clutched his knees and tried to catch his breath.

 

“Yeah,” Castiel panted. “I just need a moment.”

 

Dean took the opportunity to break the shears in half, making two long blades. He slipped one in his bag, and the other in the leg strap which had carried his knife before he lost it in the caves.

 

“You good?” Dean asked when he was finished.

 

Castiel nodded, too exhausted to reply, and they carried on. Dean was more careful about covering their tracks now, pointing out twigs that Castiel could break if he pushed past them, and trying to disturb the leaf litter as little as possible. Castiel’s heart continued to thud very fast in his chest long after he’d caught his breath. They were so close. Michael’s men were so close, and they knew about Dean, and somehow they knew which direction they’d headed in.

 

“This is a bit of a detour but it’ll bring us past an inn by nightfall,” Dean said, the sun lighting his face as he looked up at the clear sky.

 

They were walking through fields now, having found a little path between the hedgerows. Dean looked round when Castiel didn’t respond.

 

“Hey,” Dean caught his hand and made him stop, tilting his chin up with the other. “You okay?”

 

“Yes,” Castiel lied. “Just tired.”

 

Dean searched his eyes before sighing.

 

“It’s alright to be afraid, Cas,” he said after a moment, cupping Castiel’s cheek and smoothing his thumb across it. “But know that I won’t let anything happen to you, even if you are the one with the powers.”

 

Castiel couldn’t help returning Dean’s smile as he remembered their exchange in his bedroom. It felt like an age ago.

 

“I know you won’t,” Castiel murmured, and stretched up to kiss him.

 

Dean’s lips were warm and chapped, his stubble slightly scratchy against Castiel’s chin. Dean hummed in pleasure, his hands going to the small of Castiel’s back to draw him closer. Castiel put all of his thanks into the kiss, tried to tell Dean with his lips that, no matter how their time together played out, that even if it all ended in tears, he would be forever grateful to Dean for helping to sew part of the hole in Castiel’s chest together.

 

Castiel broke away, keeping his arms locked around Dean’s neck as he looked up at him. Dean looked slightly dazed by the kiss, and Castiel couldn’t help the grin that broke across his face.

 

“There it is,” Dean whispered, leaning to kiss the corner of Castiel’s mouth.

 

“There what is?” Castiel asked, nuzzling his cheek against Dean’s.

 

“That sunshine smile,” Dean whispered into Castiel’s hair.

 

Castiel laughed softly. Dean’s arms were solid around him, his earthy scent embracing him, the sun warm on Castiel’s hair as he rested his head against Dean’s chest.

 

“So an inn?” Castiel prompted, his voice slightly muffled against Dean’s chest.

 

“Mmm…” Dean hummed in affirmation, and Castiel could hear it in his chest.

 

“A bed would be most welcome,” Castiel sighed. “And a proper bath.”

 

“Yes a bed would be most welcome,” Dean agreed, and Castiel could feel him smiling from where his lips rested on the side of his head.

 

Castiel leant back and grinned at Dean again, catching the mischievous smirk on Dean’s face.

 

“Are you hoping to take me to bed, Dean?” Castiel asked, his eyebrows raising.

 

“Don’t be coy,” Dean grinned, then he leant to murmur in Castiel’s ear, his breath hot as his lips grazed Castiel’s skin. “I will have you writhing on that bed and begging me to touch you before the night is out.”

 

Castiel shuddered, his legs feeling suddenly very weak.

 

“That… that sounds agreeable,” he said, his voice stuttering over the words as Dean attached his mouth to the side of Castiel’s neck and left a trail of kisses there.

 

Castiel slipped slightly against Dean’s front, and the hunter caught him, propping him upright again as he stepped away from him with a smirk.

 

“As much as I’d like to ravish you in a field right now,” Dean said, catching Castiel’s hand to pull him onwards. “We’re supposed to be escaping.”

 

Castiel let Dean pull him along reluctantly. He did of course want to escape, but Dean’s lips had a way of making everything else seem not quite as important.

 

They kept walking, their fingers linked together. Dean was looking down at his boots as he walked, a little frown on his face.

 

“What’s the matter?” Castiel asked, giving Dean’s hand a little shake.

 

“What?” Dean said, coming round with a surprised glance at Castiel. “Oh, nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

 

“Tell me,” Castiel pressed, raising Dean’s hand to his lips to press a kiss against the knuckles.

 

Dean gave him a little smile.

 

“I just can’t help feeling like… like I shouldn’t be this happy when Sam’s being held captive somewhere, possibly even being hurt,” Dean said, looking morose.

 

“Well if Naomi’s plans for me have any weight in bringing down Michael, then you’re doing the right thing,” Castiel pointed out. “Far more effective to work with the resistance than go charging directly at the castle, wouldn’t you say?”

 

“Yeah I know,” Dean sighed, squinting up against the sun. “You just make me very happy and that feels… wrong.”

 

Castiel’s stomach gave a lurch. Whilst he was glad to hear he made Dean happy, to also hear that it felt wrong to him was like a direct punch to the abdomen.

 

“It… it feels wrong?” Castiel repeated quietly.

 

“No not in that way,” Dean said hurriedly, looking at Castiel in alarm. “Only because I shouldn’t be this happy whilst the situation with Sam is how it is… you know that this, just the bit between us, not counting the stuff with my brother or the resistance or anything else, feels like the only right thing I’ve done in a long time.”

 

Castiel felt something warm slip down inside him, like he’d just taken a huge gulp of tea. He leant over as they walked and placed a kiss on Dean’s cheek. Dean smiled at his shoes.

 

They stopped only once to have lunch, and then pushed on. As the day wore on, more farm houses started appearing. They even started to see people on the road, mostly farmers but a couple of merchants too.

 

Castiel pulled a cotton scarf from his bag and wound it around the lower half of his face, as well as pulling his hood up. It was unlikely any of the farmers would recognise him, but the merchants might, and he didn’t want to risk it.

 

It was late when they finally reached the inn. It was built of sturdy logs, two stories high and wide, and the warm light from its windows shone out onto the crossroads next to which it sat. Dean and Castiel ducked inside, grateful for the warmth in the increasingly cold evening. Castiel hung back behind Dean.

 

The room was busy but not overly crowded, the clientele in well worn, homely clothes. Warmth and light emanated from a large fireplace in the corner, and well scrubbed tables were dotted around. A fair skinned woman, her wavy blonde hair tied into a messy bun behind a colourful scarf smiled at them from behind the bar. She finished drawing a pint and placed the tankard down in front of a man sat hunched over the bar, before resting her hands on the bartop as Dean approached.

 

“Do you have any rooms available?” Dean asked, giving the woman a dazzling smile.

 

One side of the woman’s mouth hitched in a knowing smile and her smoky eyes flickered back to Castiel, who stood behind Dean, his face still half concealed.

 

“Will that be a double or two singles?” she asked, her silver earrings flashing in the light of the fire.

 

“A double,” Dean said, switching his smile from charming to conspiratorial.

 

“Room seven is available,” the woman said, going to a set of hooks and taking a heavy iron key down from one. “It’s on the first floor, turn left when you get up the stairs. I’ll just get the fire lit for you. Would you like to eat before you go up?”

 

“Yeah that’d be great,” Dean said, looking thrilled at the prospect of proper food. “Do you have pie?”

 

“Sure do, sweetie,” the woman said, handing Dean the key. “We got apple and pumpkin. All the food’s up on the board, let me know what you want.”

 

Then she turned and walked through a door behind the bar. Dean turned and grinned at Castiel, before grabbing his hand and leading him over to a table near enough to the fire that they could be warmed by it. Castiel took his pack off and carefully sat in the chair facing the wall, knowing he’d have to move his scarf down to eat.

 

“How good’s this?” Dean said, beaming as he took a seat opposite him. “I can’t wait to have pie, I’m gonna get the apple, and the beef before, what do you want?”

 

Castiel smiled under his scarf at Dean’s obvious joy. Dean looked golden in the firelight, the dirt of the road suiting him rather than detracting from his beauty.

 

“Beef sounds good,” he said, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes.

 

It was bliss to be sitting down, and not only in a field, but a proper chair.

 

“I could sleep right here,” Castiel mumbled.

 

“Well don’t,” Dean said, getting to his feet. “I’m gonna go order for us. You want a beer?”

 

“No thank you,” Castiel replied, opening his eyes to look up at Dean. “Water will suffice.”

 

Dean snorted and muttered something about Castiel being no fun, before heading over to the bar. Castiel closed his eyes again, letting the fire warm his aching muscles.

 

After a moment Dean returned. They chatted whilst they waited for their food, Dean animated and happy with the prospect of pie. When the beef arrived Castiel groaned with how good it tasted.

 

“You need a moment alone?” Dean asked, his lip quirking.

 

“It’s so good,” Castiel said after swallowing.

 

“I know right?” Dean agreed. “Everything tastes amazing when you’ve been on the road a couple of days. Tinned stuff and porridge doesn’t really cut it.”

 

They both fell silent for a little while, enjoying the warm meal.

 

“Hey,” Dean said suddenly, his knife and fork pausing. “Is this our first date?”

 

He grinned as Castiel spluttered into the glass of water he’d just raised to his lips. Castiel coughed and put the water down.

 

“Um, yes, I suppose so,” Castiel said, his eyes watering slightly.

 

“Neat,” Dean said, and then went back to attacking his beef.

 

Castiel watched him for a moment, amused, and then resumed his own eating. By the time he was finished he was full and sleepy. Dean had ordered the apple pie and was happily devouring it whilst Castiel stared dreamily into the fire.

 

The gentle chatter and clink of cutlery was soothing after days in the wild. These people felt safe, normal. Nothing like the courtiers or city dwellers that surrounded Michael’s castle. It was only when he felt Dean’s hand on his arm that he came round from his daydream.

 

“Hey,” Dean said gently, smiling down from where he stood over him. “You look tired, wanna go to bed?”

 

Castiel nodded, pulling his scarf up as he grabbed his pack. As he did he remembered what going to bed would mean, and suddenly felt very awake. He followed Dean as he lead him to a door at the back of the room, up the stairs on the other side, and along the corridor at the top.

 

Dean unlocked the door and they entered, Castiel immediately pulled his scarf down and dumped his pack on the floor.

 

The room was simple but cosy. A small hearth held a fire, which spilled its light onto a little rug and a single arm chair in front of it. The floor was wood and the walls were the same heavy logs as the rest of the place, a large double bed pushed up in the centre of the back wall. In the wall opposite the fireplace was a door, which Castiel assumed led to a bathroom.

 

Castiel took his jacket and boots off, quickly crossing to stand in front of the fire. The rug was soft on his battered feet.

 

“Happy?” Dean asked, beckoning to Castiel as he sat down in the armchair.

 

“Very,” Castiel sighed, sitting down on Dean’s lap. He hadn’t sat on anyone’s lap since he was a child. As Dean wrapped his arms around him and drew him back to lean against him, Castiel felt immensely safe. He hummed contentedly as he gazed into the fire.

 

Dean placed kisses along his cheekbone, working his way down until Castiel turned and caught his lips with his own. Dean’s lips were hot from sitting in front of the fire, greedy on Castiel’s mouth.

 

“Wait,” Castiel said as the kiss got heated. “I’d love to resume this, but first I’d really like a bath.”

 

“Fair enough,” Dean said, pecking Castiel again. “Is there room for two in the tub?”

 

“Yes,” Castiel said shyly. “But you've got to actually let me get clean.”

  
“Alright,” Dean chuckled, and he followed Castiel into the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's looking forward to tomorrow's chapter, eh? We're all sinners here my children.


	9. Chapter 9

Castiel lifted his arms for Dean to take off his shirt. The bath was filling beside them, a large tub with a soft mat next to it. The bathroom was small but well equipped, little glass bottles of soap on the shelf above the sink and candles on the window sill.

 

Dean smiled when Castiel let his arms fall to his sides, discarding his shirt and letting his fingertips trace lightly down Castiel’s bare chest. Castiel shuddered.

 

Then Dean stripped off his own t-shirt, shoulder muscles bunching as he drew it off over his head. There were still bandages over Dean’s chest, but even so the sight was enough to make Castiel’s breathing hitch. He drew closer and reached up for the bandage.

 

“We should change this,” Castiel said, and started unraveling the bandage.

 

He could feel Dean’s gaze burning into him as he worked but was trying to keep his hands steady.

 

“This looks much better,” Castiel said, using the bandage to wipe away the remnants of the paste.

 

“All thanks to you, doctor Cas,” Dean said, and took his hand to kiss his knuckles.

 

“Stop that,” Castiel chided, slapping away Dean’s hand even though he was trying to suppress a smile. “I'm trying to work here.”

 

“Mhmm,” Dean hummed, placing his hands on Castiel’s hips.

 

Castiel inspected the wound, checking for signs of infection and still pointedly ignoring Dean’s intense staring.

 

“Looks like it's healing nicely, I'll clean it after we bath and rebandage it. It will do it some good to get some air, although try not to get it too wet,” Castiel instructed, lightly pressing the skin around the puncture mark to check that the skin went white before returning to its usual colour.

 

“Does that mean I can kiss you now?” Dean asked and Castiel could see his smirk out of the corner of his eye.

 

Castiel finally met his gaze, and saw that it was hungry again.

 

“Yes,” Castiel replied, and his head tilted back as Dean engulfed him in a kiss.

 

Dean slowly undid Castiel’s jeans as they kissed, giving him plenty of time to stop him. Castiel was more than happy to let him carry on, in fact his body was shaking with desire. His hands clung to Dean’s neck as he kissed him desperately, their breathing uneven, their cheeks flushed.

 

Dean’s thumb brushed Castiel through his boxers as he pulled his jeans down and Castiel groaned as Dean sunk to the floor. He helped Castiel step out of the jeans, before kissing up Castiel’s thigh. Castiel couldn’t help the spasms that were wracking his body, and he grabbed Dean’s shoulder as the his breath played over his growing erection.

 

“Dean,” Castiel panted as the hunter looked up at him, eyes hooded with lust. “Bath.”

 

Dean got to his feet obediently and started undoing his jeans. Castiel sank back against the sink, unable to tear his eyes away as Dean tugged down both his jeans and his boxers.

 

“Fuck,” Castiel whimpered, taking in the sight of Dean as he straightened.

 

Dean hummed in appreciation, drawing close to Castiel to cup his face in his hands.

 

“Never heard you curse before,” Dean said, and his voice was practically a growl. “I like it.”

 

Dean ran his thumb over Castiel’s bottom lip, dragging it down so Castiel whimpered again, eyes wide as he stared up at Dean and gripped the sink.

 

“I like having a little dirty mouthed prince to take to bed,” Dean said, and the look in his eyes was animal in its lust as he loomed over the weak kneed Castiel.

 

Then Dean hooked his fingers into the waistband of Castiel’s boxers and pulled them down. Dean groaned, biting his lip as he took in the sight of Castiel fully naked. Then he took both of Castiel’s hands from where they gripped the sink, and drew him over to the bath. Castiel was only just thinking straight enough to grab a couple of bottles off the shelf as he went. Dean climbed in, drawing Castiel with him.

 

Castiel settled between Dean’s knees, leaning against his chest. Castiel cupped a handful of bubbles together, smiling at the thought of Dean using bubble bath.

 

“Now we’re going to get you clean,” Dean murmured in his ear, the rumble of his chest humming through Castiel. “And then I’m going to touch you until you can’t see straight, is that okay?”

 

Castiel swallowed and nodded. He unscrewed a bottle with a thick, clear soap inside it, and poured some into his hand. Then he span around, the water sloshing around him, and pressed his hands to Dean’s chest.

 

“You gonna wash me?” Dean asked, grinning.

 

Castiel nodded, his eyes fastened on Dean’s chest as he ran his hands over it in circles, careful to avoid getting soap in Dean’s wound. Dean’s chest was firm as ever, but the slickness of the soap and water made Castiel want to bite it. Dean watched him, but Castiel’s eyes were focused on his hands. He let them sink beneath the surface of the water, dragging them down Dean’s sides and drawing a sigh from him. Then he slicked them over Dean’s hips, then his thighs, before pushing them back up on Dean’s inner thighs. He got dangerously close to Dean’s hardening cock, making the hunter bite his lip, before he slipped them back down his thighs.

 

“Mmph, Cas you drive me mad,” Dean groaned, gripping the sides of the tub.

 

“Well you’ve been making me crazy ever since we met,” Castiel said calmly, his hands making their slow progress over Dean’s body, venturing everywhere but his arousal. “I had very bad thoughts about you, Dean.”

 

Dean whimpered, and Castiel felt triumphant for drawing the noise out of him.

 

“I thought of your hands on me,” Castiel said, his voice still calm as he applied just the right pressure to Dean’s hips with his fingers. He had no idea where his confidence was coming from, but Dean was becoming more and more of a mess as he spoke, so he carried on. “I thought of you holding me down, I thought of you kissing me. I thought of what it would feel like to have your hands stroke me, to have your hardness against mine, to draw moans out of you… to have.... Your fingers inside me.”

 

Dean did moan at the last, his hand flying out to grab Castiel’s arm. He drew Castiel to him in a heated kiss, his hands flying to Castiel’s hair as their lips pressed roughly together.

 

“Dean,” Castiel gasped after a moment of wild kissing. “I need… wash.”

 

Dean grabbed the soap bottle, tipped some onto his hands and started rubbing it over Castiel’s body at double speed. Castiel laughed and Dean let out an irritated sigh.

 

“You do it then,” he said stropily. “But do it fast, Novak, I want to hear you moan.”

 

Castiel raised his eyebrows at Dean’s use of his surname, taking over the washing of his body. He gave himself a quick all over, before climbing out of the tub, his hair dripping. Dean, who had hopped out before him, came and wrapped him in a towel. He gave Castiel a heated kiss, but Castiel reluctantly stopped him with a hand on his chest.

 

“Dean, your shoulder,” he said, and went to the packs to retrieve some clean bandage, tucking the towel around his hips as he went.

 

Dean followed close behind him, his arms looping around Castiel’s waist as he searched in his bag. Castiel span in the circle of Dean’s arms, holding the bandage. He pressed the end to Dean’s chest before he started unrolling it. Dean lifted his arms as Castiel instructed, his gaze boring into Castiel again as he worked.

 

“There,” Castiel said as he tucked the end of the bandage in.

 

The word was barely out of his mouth before Dean was crowding him towards the bed, one hand in Castiel’s hair, the other untucking the towel from his hips.

 

They fell on the bed in a tangle, Castiel laughing as he went down. Dean succeeded in getting the towel off, before he pushed Castiel further up the bed until his head was on the pillows, Dean between his legs. Dean’s lips were desperate, his stance possessive as he bent over Castiel, hands on either side of his head as he kissed him. Castiel’s hands were gripping Dean’s back, eager to pull him closer.

 

Suddenly Dean’s lips were gone and Castiel opened his eyes in confusion. Dean was staring down at him, his breathing heavy.

 

“You sure this is okay?” he asked, and there was that wonderful softness in his eyes, that look that made Castiel feel seen and safe.

 

Castiel gave him a warm smile, cupping Dean’s cheek with his hand as he stared up at him.

 

“Yes,” Castiel said, his blue eyes fixed on the green. “We’re taking it slow right? One new step at a time.”

 

“Of course,” Dean said, and he was kissing him again.

 

The kiss was still heated, but it seemed to have something else in it along with the lust now, and Castiel gripped Dean’s shoulder blades as their hips connected.

 

Castiel gasped. He could feel Dean through the towel, his erection large and hard against his own. Castiel’s hands clumsily tugged at Dean’s towel, until one of Dean’s hands met his.

 

“S’alright,” Dean said, calming Castiel’s fumbling movements. “I’m here.”

 

Dean removed the towel, tossing it to one side. Then he pushed his hips down into Castiel’s. Castiel groaned, his eyes rolling back as he arched off the bed. His nails dug slightly into Dean’s back as the other man started to move. Then he choked out a moan as Dean took both of their cocks in his hand, gripping them together as he thrust into his fist. Castiel’s hands released Dean’s back, instead going to grip the pillow tightly as he canted his hips upwards.

 

“Cas,” Dean gasped. “Fuck you feel good.”

 

Castiel writhed beneath Dean as he pumped repeatedly into the fist, his hips bucking upwards to match Dean’s rhythm.

 

“Cas,” Dean groaned. “Cas I want to taste you.”

 

Castiel whimpered and nodded, his eyes meeting Dean’s as he bit his lip. Dean kissed him, his mouth somehow rough but tender at the same time. Then he kissed down Castiel’s neck, releasing their cocks as he reached his chest.

 

Castiel gripped the pillow, watching as Dean kissed down his stomach, laying another of those exceptionally gentle kisses on the scar on Castiel’s abdomen as he reached it. Castiel’s chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths as Dean’s hands ran up his thighs, his green eyes on Castiel’s erection.

 

Dean looked up as he took Castiel’s cock into his hand, watching as Castiel let out a gasp and his legs shook. Then, his eyes still locked with Castiel’s, Dean very slowly lowered himself. His breath played over the head of Castiel’s dick, and Castiel bit his lip, his brow furrowed as he watched.

 

Then Dean took him in his mouth.

 

The moan that Castiel let out was loud enough for the neighbouring rooms to hear. Dean’s mouth was obscenely wet and warm, and he sucked Castiel right down until his tip was pressed against the back of his throat.

 

“Fuck, Dean,” Castiel panted, and he felt Dean’s hum of approval vibrate through his dick.

 

Castiel’s mouth opened and closed noiselessly as Dean started to suck up and down, his hand joining his mouth to work the base at the same time and making Castiel’s back arch up. Dean’s lips were tight, his tongue working the underside of Castiel’s cock as he moved up and down. Castiel whimpered as Dean moved his mouth up and flicked his tongue over Castiel’s slit.

 

“Dean,” he breathed, one hand finding his hair, the feeling almost unbearably good.

 

He moved his hips ever so slightly to match Dean’s pace, groaning as Dean rolled his tongue along the underside of his cock as he sucked.

 

“Dean come here, I want… I want you to cum with me.”

 

Dean released Castiel’s dick with a lurid pop, and crawled back up the bed. As their lips met, Castiel flipped them over. Dean hummed with surprise and approval, his hands grabbing Castiel’s ass as he straddled him.

 

Castiel reached down and gripped his and Dean’s dicks so they were again pressed together. Dean groaned, and he pulled Castiel forward, his fingertips digging into Castiel’s cheeks slightly. Castiel obeyed and started to move. The friction was enough to have him gasping, but it was the sight of Dean, arching up off the bed, burying one hand in the pillow, his eyes screwing shut, that nearly sent Castiel over the edge. Castiel held on though, working his hips down against Dean’s, his hand pumping them both. He took advantage of Dean’s exposed neck, fastening his mouth to the crook of it.

 

“Cas, oh god,” Dean moaned, his hand slipping to the back of Castiel’s thigh to draw him harder forward, the other still buried in the pillow.

 

Castiel sucked and bit, his thrusts getting faster. Dean’s cock was wet with precum against his own, throbbing with how hard he was.

 

“Cas,” Dean said, and his voice broke.

 

Castiel moved back, and Dean’s eyes opened so they were gazing at each other, their breaths coming out in pants, their lips bruised and their cheeks flushed.

 

“I’m— oh god, Dean, I’m close,” Castiel moaned.

 

“Yes, baby,” Dean groaned. “Yes I want you to cum for me, fuck yes, yes, fuck, Cas, oh fuck!”

 

Castiel came with a violent shudder, tipping Dean over the edge as his load spilled over both of them. Castiel kept thrusting, both of them shaking as their orgasms drew long threads of cum from them. Dean’s mouth was working noiselessly, his hand tight on Castiel’s thigh.

 

Slowly Castiel came to a stop. He kissed Dean deeply, still holding them both, loving how sloppy Dean’s lips were, how, when he moved back, Dean looked half drugged. Castiel rolled off him, grabbing the towel from where it had been tossed on one side of the bed.

 

Dean just hummed something sleepily as Castiel cleaned them both. The fire lit his face and he grumbled a little as Castiel made him get under the duvet, burrowing under it like a sleepy bear. Then he drew Castiel to his chest, tucking him under his chin and folding his arms around him in what was quickly becoming Castiel’s favourite way to sleep.

 

“Goodnight, Dean,” Castiel whispered against his chest.

 

“G’night, Cas,” Dean mumbled, and kissed the top of Castiel’s head.

  
Then the soft glow of the room faded, and Castiel slipped into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so pretty much every other chapter is going to be smut until I get bored of it, aka never bring on the fucking smut. But please smut responsibly, don't smut and drive, kids, be smut aware.


	10. Chapter 10

Castiel awoke with a start to a heavy banging on the door. He was tangled with Dean and the duvet, blinking around in confusion as the noise of someone pounding their fist against wood filled the room. Dean untangled himself from Castiel and lept to his feet.

 

“Stay there,” Dean murmured, shooting Castiel a warning look as he started to rise out of the bed.

 

He scooped his underwear off the floor and pulled them on as he approached the door, grabbing his gun on the way.

 

Fear filled Castiel. He gripped the duvet to his chest as Dean crept nearer the door. He wanted to shout out, to tell Dean to run, that he couldn’t think of anything worse than Dean being killed by Michael’s men as they tried to get to Castiel.

 

“Dean Winchester open the motherloving door!” a woman’s voice shouted from the hallway, followed by a swift bang which sounded as though the woman had kicked the door.

 

Dean instantly relaxed. He straightened, a smile on his face, and hurried to the door. When he wrenched it open a blur of red flew at him.

 

“Charlie,” Dean laughed, hugging the small woman and kissing the top of her head.

 

Charlie stepped back and beamed at Dean, before punching him on the arm.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were here, eh?” she said, glaring at him but still smiling. “And for fuck’s sake, Winchester, put some pants on.”

 

She suddenly spotted Castiel, still clutching the duvet to his chest and staring at the pair in utter confusion.

 

“Well helloooo,” she trilled, shooting Dean a sly grin as she bounded over to the bed. “Who’s the hunk, Dean?”

 

“Charlie, meet Castiel,” Dean said proudly, pulling his jeans on as he came over to perch on his side of the bed. “Castiel, Charlie.”

 

“Castiel as in the prince you're supposed to be fetching?” Charlie asked, her expression becoming even more excited as she hopped up to sit on the end of the bed.

 

“Uh.” Castiel glanced at Dean, who nodded. “Yes,” he confirmed, very aware that he was naked under the covers.

 

“Oh my god.” Charlie beamed at him.

 

“What are you doing here, Charlie?” Dean asked, putting an arm around Castiel and giving him a squeeze, making Charlie smirk.

 

“The barmaid’s one of us, you fool,” she replied. “Had a message from her this morning saying you’d arrived.”

 

“We were going to come to you today,” Dean explained. “But it’s an extra hour’s walk and we were exhausted.”

 

“Plus you wanted to have a night with the prince unimpeded,” Charlie said, flicking her vibrant red curls out of her face.

 

“That too,” Dean agreed.

 

“I, um, think I’m going to take a bath,” Castiel mumbled, his cheeks flushing.

 

“Oh my god, Dean, he’s so cute,” Charlie said, biting her lip and looking thrilled with the situation.

 

“Dean, can you pass me a towel?” Castiel asked, giving Dean a pointed look.

 

Dean grabbed a clean towel and threw it to Castiel, who made sure it was covering him properly before rising.

 

“Any news on Sam, Charlie?” Dean asked, and Castiel heard the desperation in his voice.

 

“Actually, yes,” Charlie replied, making Castiel turn from where he'd been opening the bathroom door.

 

“What?” Dean said quickly, his expression shocked but keen.

 

“A bunch of the king’s soldiers were seen taking Sam and some other captives to Carlton,” Charlie went on. “They're being held there. Naomi and Ellen have got people doing reconnaissance at the moment, but I don't think they'll wait long before they move in.”

 

Dean stood up, his face determined.

 

“Well we have to go now, what are we waiting for?” he said, snatching up his t-shirt.

 

“Easy, down boy,” Charlie said, putting up a hand. “They’re not going in right this second, let your man have a bath and then we’ll go. Besides, I have a car, so we can go straight to the base in Overton.”

 

“You what?” Dean said, astonished.

 

“Have a car, yes.” Charlie smirked. “It’s parked outside.”

 

Castiel hadn’t seen a car since he was at the palace. They were rare and only for the rich.

 

“So the resistance isn’t sparing any expense then,” he said, his eyebrows raised as he leant against the door frame.

 

“It’s not theirs,” Charlie explained. “I inherited it.”

 

“Won’t it be a bit… conspicuous?” Castiel asked.

 

“Nah you can lie down on the backseat, we’ll put a blanket over you.” Charlie waved away his concern.

 

Castiel shook his head and turned to go into the bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, he considered how nice it would be to have more people on his side. Charlie seemed friendly. Maybe she would even become his friend. Castiel smiled at the thought. A man and a friend. How luck can change.

 

Half an hour later both he and Dean were clean, dressed, and looking at the most conspicuous car Castiel had ever seen.

 

“Waddaya think?” Charlie asked, grinning as she unlocked her bright yellow beetle.

 

“It’s, um…. Bright,” Castiel said, looking helplessly at Dean.

 

“Looks like a bumblebee threw up on it,” Dean said bluntly, his hands on his hips and his head tilted to one side as he considered the car.

 

“Exactly how I like ‘em,” Charlie said, opening the boot of the car so they could throw their packs in.

 

Castiel lay down on the backseat, which was a little cramped but okay overall. He watched the sky floating past the window as they set off, Dean and Charlie chatting animatedly in the front seats as the radio played upbeat, poppy music.

 

He must’ve nodded off without meaning to, because the next moment Dean was leaning through the door his feet had been resting against, stroking Castiel’s hair gently back from his forehead.

 

“Hey, sleepy creature,” Dean said, smiling softly as he looked down at Castiel’s dazed face.

 

“Are we here?” Castiel asked, placing his hand over Dean’s as he rested it on his cheek.

 

“Yeah, I’m not sure who else is here but there’ll definitely be some people worth meeting,” Dean said as Castiel sat up, pecking him lightly on the lips.

 

They extracted themselves from the car, and Castiel retrieved his pack from the trunk. He stared up at the manor house in which they’d parked in front of. It was a large limestone building, set in the centre of a sprawling lawn. There were steps up to a front porch, upon which pillars stretched up to a triangular pediment, depicting robed figures at some sort of banquet.

 

Castiel tilted his head back to keep his eyes on them as they approached the steps, trying to work out who they were supposed to represent.

 

“This house was lent to the resistance by Bela Talbot,” Charlie explained as they climbed the steps. “She’s not especially easy to get along with, more concerned with money than what is right, but a while ago someone close to Michael betrayed her, so she came over to our side.”

 

“How do you know you can trust her?” Castiel asked as Charlie knocked on the front door.

 

“I don’t,” Charlie replied. “But Ellen said what this Lilith woman did to her was bad enough that she knows Bela wouldn’t betray us.”

 

Castiel frowned. He wasn’t comfortable with people who sought wealth and power above justice and freedom. But he’d just have to trust that this Ellen woman knew what she was doing.

 

The door swung open, revealing a slightly ruffled looking boy, with dark hair and tanned skin.

 

“Hey Kevin,” Dean said as Charlie grinned at the boy and strode past him.

 

“Hi Dean,” Kevin replied, smiling weakly. He looked quite exhausted. “Who’s your friend?”

 

“This is Castiel,” Dean said as they stepped over the threshold into a lavish hall.

 

It was rectangular in shape, with rich mahogany floors overlaid by an enormous rug. The rug lead to a grand staircase, which curved away in opposite directions at the top under a large stained glass window. The wooden lions stood guard on the posts of the base of the stairs, watched over by the portraits lining the rich crimson walls. Their eyes seemed to follow Castiel as he walked further into the room.

 

“Castiel as in the prince?” Kevin asked, and Castiel wondered how often this question was going to come up.

 

“Yep,” Dean said, hoisting his pack further up his shoulder. “Is there anywhere we can drop these?”

 

“Oh right, sure,” Kevin said, giving Castiel a sidelong glance as he passed him. “I’ll show you guys to your rooms, Ellen said I should prepare a couple.”

 

“Actually that’ll be room,” Dean said as they followed Kevin along the hall. “Singular.”

 

“Oh really?” Kevin said, turning with his foot on the first step, his eyebrows raised.

 

“Really,” Dean confirmed, looking slightly irritated. “Get a move on, Tran, I’m hungry and I wanna see Ellen.”

 

They climbed the stairs, which had a runner of the same deep crimson as the walls. Castiel’s eyes were on the huge coat of arms set in stained glass in the window. Two lions were rearing up back to back, crossed swords over their heads. Michael’s royal seal was at the base, a mark of favour to the family from the king. Castiel’s stomach twisted as he stared at the swirling gold M.

 

They turned right at the top of the stairs, Charlie peeling away to the left, saying something about finding someone called Dorothy. Dean peppered Kevin with question about what had been discovered about Sam.

 

“Look man,” Kevin said wearily. “I’ve been deciphering the coded messages that the court send. I’m sorry but I don’t know anything about Sam. I have been extra vigilant about anything concerning captives though, and there’s nada. We got lucky with that sighting.”

 

“No-one reads code like Kevin does,” Dean explained to Castiel as they entered a long corridor, trying to be positive even though he was obviously disappointed. “The kid just sees stuff in the code that the rest of us don’t, it’s amazing.”

 

Kevin stopped by a door on the left and opened it. Castiel and Dean followed him in. The bedroom was light and airy, decorated in blue and white and with windows on two of the walls as it was a corner room. There was a large wardrobe on the far wall between two windows, a double bed with its headboard against the right wall, and a door next to the one they’d just come through which revealed an en suite bathroom when Castiel pushed it open.

 

“This is nice,” Castiel said, closing the bathroom door.

 

Dean threw his pack down into a blue armchair, which sat in the furthest corner between two windows.

 

“Yeah, great,” he said, barely looking at the room. “Can we go see Ellen now?”

 

“Sure if you want,” Kevin agreed. “I’ll let Benny know that you need feeding.”

 

“Benny’s here?” Dean asked, his face breaking into a smile.

 

Castiel dropped his bag with a loud thump.

 

“Who’s Benny?” he asked lightly.

 

“Oh an old friend,” Dean said, still smiling.

 

They followed Kevin out of the room, Castiel frowning slightly but not really sure why.

 

“Ellen should still be in the front living room, the green one not the red one,” Kevin supplied as they headed back down the corridor. “I’ll see you later.”

 

He jogged off, going up the corridor that Charlie had gone down. Dean and Castiel descended the stairs.

 

“How does it feel to be back with the resistance?” Castiel asked, linking his hand with Dean’s as they reached the hall.

 

“Same as ever,” Dean replied. “Busy and urgent and generally a bit panicked.”

 

“Hm,” Castiel agreed, as he watched a woman run past with a stack of papers in her arms.

 

“How are you feeling about it?” Dean asked as they entered another corridor, this one lined with mahogany panelling and large paintings of ships at sea.

 

“A little on edge,” Castiel admitted. “There’s so many people that we’re trusting to keep me a secret… it just makes me nervous.”

 

Dean stopped and pulled Castiel in for a kiss.

 

“That’s understandable,” he said, brushing the back of his hand along Castiel’s cheek. “But it’ll be fine. These people have risked a lot being a part of this. And even if one of them were to betray us, which I know they wouldn’t, they’d have to go through me.”

 

Castiel stretched up and kissed Dean. His mouth was warm, comforting, and real.

 

Suddenly the moment was broken by a loud wolf whistle. Dean and Castiel broke apart and turned to see a woman hanging off a doorframe and grinning at them.

 

“You boys are making quite a show of yourself there,” she said, before jerking her head towards the room she was hanging out of. “Get yourself in here.”

 

“Ellen,” Dean said happily, breaking away from Castiel to stride down the corridor and engulf the woman in a hug.

 

“How you doing, Dean-o?” Ellen said, clapping Dean on the shoulder as they broke apart. “I see you got Castiel alright?”

 

Castiel had followed Dean, and was now standing quietly behind him. Ellen moved forward and clapped Castiel on the shoulder too.

 

“Nice to meet you, Castiel,” Ellen said, her soft accent hinting at southern roots. “You gave all of us quite a surprise when you pulled off that escape. Really fucked Michael off too.”

 

“Oh, um, thanks?” Castiel said, not really sure what to say. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I hear the work you’re doing is truly outstanding.”

 

Ellen shrugged and bobbed her head, digging her hands into her jean pockets. Her hazel eyes seemed to twinkle with a sort of hidden knowledge, the kind reserved just for mothers, and they crinkled warmly along her laughter lines when she smiled.

 

“We do what we can,” Ellen said, gesturing for them to follow her into the lounge.

 

The lounge looked as though it had been hit by a paper bomb. The cream and green decor was taken over by maps and blueprints, lists of code and photos. It jarred with the plush curtains and ornate gold picture frames, but it made Castiel very happy. Here was a group that knew what they were doing. The sofas had been pushed back to allow for a large round table in the centre of the room, at which a few people were huddled together, consulting even more papers on the table.

 

They looked up as Dean, Ellen and Castiel entered.

 

“Well looky here,” a blonde girl said, a smirk hitching up the corner of her mouth as she rounded the table to approach them.

 

She had a casual swagger, nothing like Charlie’s bouncing walk or Kevin’s slope. She flicked her wavy long hair over her shoulder and came to stand in front of them with her hands on her hips.

 

“Winchester, get your butt over here and give me a hug,” she said, hooking her thumbs in her belt loops.

 

“Hey, Jo,” Dean said warmly, engulfing her in a hug before patting her on the head.

 

Jo ducked away from him and gave him a hard punch on the arm.

 

“Cut that shit out,” she scolded, but was still grinning when she turned to Castiel. “So you’re Castiel then?”

 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Castiel said, extending his hand to her.

 

“Oh he sure talks nice doesn’t he?” Jo threw Dean another smirk before knocking Castiel’s hand aside and hugging him. “Welcome, Cas, imma call you Cas alright? Come see what we’re doing, you’ll love this.”

 

She kept her arm looped around his shoulders as she steered him towards the table. Another woman had rounded the table and was leant against it, grinning at Dean.

 

“How you doing, sugar?” she said in a husky voice, straightening to hug Dean.

 

Her dark wavy hair fell back as she embraced him, perfectly completing her head to toe black outfit.

 

“Hey, Pam,” Dean grinned.

 

“Oh and you’re just too kind bringing me a present,” she said, her eyes lighting up as she took in Castiel.

 

Dean maneuvered Castiel out from under Jo’s arm so he could loop his arm over his shoulders instead.

 

“‘Fraid this one’s taken,” Dean said, and Castiel felt a warmth inside his chest at how open Dean was being about him.

 

“Well would you look at that,” Pam said, her mouth quirking into a half smile as she took in Dean and Castiel.

 

“Jeez, Dean,” Jo interjected, rolling her eyes. “I leave you alone for five minutes and you get freaky with a prince?”

 

Castiel’s face burned as Dean laughed.

 

“Well this is absolutely horrifying,” Castiel muttered, which only made them all break out into laughter.

 

“Apologies for my daughter, Castiel,” Ellen said, raising her eyebrows at Jo even though she was obviously amused.

 

Two more people were standing slightly back from the circle, more restrained and sombre as they stood with their hands clasped behind their backs. They both wore crisp grey suits that had an unpleasant familiarity with the dress of Michael’s staff.

 

“Castiel,” the woman on the left said. “It’s an honour to meet you. I served your father and still remain loyal to his line.”

 

She bowed, making Dean snort with laughter, which he quickly turned into a cough. Castiel patted him on the back, giving him a sidelong smirk. Then he moved forwards to shake hands with the woman.

 

“The honour is mine,” he said, bowing his head slightly as he clasped her hand. “I am always glad to meet those who remained loyal. What is your name?”

 

“Rachel,” the woman said, before turning and gesturing to the man beside her. “And this is Inias. He also served your father.”

 

“An honour, your majesty,” Inias said, bowing before stepping forwards to shake Castiel’s hand.

 

Castiel heard Dean let out another laugh disguised as a cough.

 

“For me also,” said Castiel, inclining his head to Inias too. “I’m sorry, but aren’t you a little young to have served my father?”

 

“I was the son of one of his advisors,” Inias explained. “But he was always very kind to me, and would give me small tasks to make me feel involved.”

 

“Oh it is coming back to me now,” Castiel said, smiling warmly as he remembered the little boy who would appear breathless and happy at his father’s elbow after fetching his pot of ink or delivering a message to another inhabitant of the castle.

 

“I’m deeply sorry about your father,” Castiel continued, knowing that all of his father’s advisors had been murdered.

 

“And I for yours,” Inias replied, dipping his head in somber acknowledgement.

 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Ellen said, gesturing to the table. “But I think Dean here will explode if we don’t carry on with our plans.”

 

Castiel turned and saw that Dean was in fact hopping slightly from one foot to the other, his eyes darting repeatedly to the papers on the table.

 

“Of course, my apologies,” Castiel said, returning to Dean’s side as they all seated themselves around the table.

 

“Well it’s great to have you here, boys,” Ellen said, her slow drawl commanding as she looked around at them all from the head of the table. “And I’m very glad to report that we’ve made progress on operation plaid.”

 

“You called it operation plaid?” Dean cut in, looking slightly horrified.

 

“What else would we call it?” Jo spoke up, smirking at Dean from where she sat next to Ellen, one leg flung over the arm of her chair. “I feel like we’re about to go logging every time I’m around you and Sam.”

 

“You’re one to talk,” Dean retorted.

 

“If,” Ellen cut in sharply, “you’re finished.” She gave her daughter and Dean pointed looks and they quickly shut their mouths.

 

“As I was saying,” Ellen continued. “We’ve made progress, particularly in how we’re going to get into the Carlton stronghold.”

 

She stood, picking up a stick that lay in front of her and used it to point at the blueprint which took up most of the tabletop.

 

“There’s a drainage pipe,” Ellen said, indicating a tunnel that ran from the building block to the other side of the wall surrounding it. “We believe that the guards don’t know about it, as, from the intell we’ve gathered, it’s in an area of the building that is unused.”

 

“When we hitting it?” Jo asked, taking a long swig of the beer she was nursing.

 

“The plan is to move in tomorrow night,” Ellen replied. “Charlie’s working on the security, they seem to have very state of the art tech, stuff we’ve never even seen before. She is of course in her element.” Ellen smiled at the thought.

 

Just then the door burst open. Castiel turned to see a broad man, with dark hair and beard standing in the doorway, his eyes raking the room.

 

“Benny!” Dean exclaimed, and scrambled out of his chair.

 

The man crossed to the table in three long strides and caught Dean in an embrace.

 

“It’s good to see you, brother,” Benny said, his voice even more southern than Ellen’s, a deep drawl that was annoyingly sexy.

 

“What have you been doing?” Dean asked, releasing Benny to stare at him. “I haven’t seen you in ages. God, I’ve missed you.”

 

“Hi,” Castiel said, giving Benny a polite smile as he came to stand beside Dean, his hand finding his.

 

“How d’ya do,” Benny said, touching his cap as he took in Castiel and Dean’s clasped hands.

 

“Benny this is Castiel,” Dean said. “Castiel, Benny.”

 

“An honour,” Castiel said coolly, earning a disapproving but amused look from Dean.

 

“Well now the honour is all mine,” Benny said, his accent smoothing over the words until they were like honey. “I hear you’re the lost prince. My deepest apologies for yuh father.”

 

Castiel inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement, trying to ignore the stab of guilt he felt for being cold towards Benny. He just couldn’t ignore how thrilled Dean was to see him, or the fact that Benny was downright gorgeous.

 

“I hear you boys are hungry,” Benny said, shifting his gaze back to Dean. “I’ve got some ribs on the grill now.”

 

“Sounds great,” Dean said, grinning at Benny. “We’ll be with you in a sec, just got to finish up here.”

 

Castiel turned and tugged Dean back towards the table, making him look at Castiel in surprise.

 

“Alright, so ribs aside,” Ellen said once they were reseated. “We’ll be making our attempt on the complex tomorrow night at ten. Dean, you’ll be accompanied by Jo, Rachel, Inias and Meg, and Dorothy will be your driver.”

 

“Meg,” sneered Dean. “What has she got to do with any of this?”

 

“She happens to have a brilliant set of skills,” Ellen replied.

 

“Which is more than I can say for your sorry ass,” a voice piped up from the behind them.

 

Castiel turned again, and saw that this time a woman stood in the doorway. She was small, dark haired and smirking, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed.

 

“Meg,” Ellen greeted her as Meg sauntered slowly into the room. “Meet Castiel.”

 

Castiel rose and shook Meg’s hand. She had a calculating, sly look about her, her mouth hitched into a permanent condescending smirk and her dark eyes bored looking as she took Castiel in.

 

“How’s it going, angel?” Meg said with a sly smile.

 

“Um,” Castiel started, not sure how to respond.

 

“Hi Meg,” Dean piped up, rescuing him. “How’s it going? Stolen anything lately?”

 

“Only hearts,” Meg replied, winking at Castiel.

 

Castiel sat back down and turned to face Ellen as Meg went and found herself a seat next to Inias and Rachel at the other end of the table, both of whom leant away from her slightly.

 

“You forgot me in that list,” Castiel said to Ellen, who fixed him with an intense look.

 

“That’s because you’re not coming,” Dean said abruptly, frowning at Castiel.

 

“Excuse me,” Castiel said. “I think I know this complex better than any of you. It did after all, used to belong to _my_ father.”

 

“Irrelevant,” Dean said, waving away the point like an annoying fly. “You’re not coming.”

 

“You are a valuable tool to the resistance, Castiel,” Ellen said, her voice soft but her gaze still boring into him. “Naomi was quite firm about recovering you.”

 

But Castiel had the impression that Ellen was weighing him up, was testing him. Her head was tilted to one side as she studied him, her hazel eyes searching his face. Castiel met them dead on.

 

“Naomi remembers me as a child,” Castiel said. “She has no idea what I can do now. If she were here she’d agree with me.”

 

“I don’t care if Naomi would let you go, I won’t,” Dean said, standing up sharply.

 

“Oh won’t you,” Castiel said, and his voice was soft but dangerous as he too stood.

 

“You’re a bigger prize to Michael than any of us,” Dean said. “And he’ll do things to you that he wouldn’t to us. So no, I won’t let you.”

 

Their faces were very close now. The potted plant in the corner suddenly sprung to life. Rachel let out a yelp of surprise as it shot past her and coiled itself around Castiel’s arms.

 

“I’d like to see you try and stop me, Winchester,” Castiel murmured, his eyes flashing as Dean stared stubbornly back at him, undeterred by the plant.

 

“That’s enough,” Ellen said, standing at the head of the table.

 

Jo had also risen, her eyes flicking between Castiel and Dean.

 

“Castiel, I think you are right,” Ellen said, fixing him with that quizzical gaze.

 

“What?!” Dean broke out, rounding on her.

 

“Castiel is the only one of us to have visited this compound before,” Ellen continued calmly, fixing her cool gaze on Dean. “He also is clearly in possession of incredible powers, which make him invaluable.”

 

“But—” Dean started.

 

“It is decided,” Ellen spoke over him, her voice firm as she gazed at Dean.

 

“Fine,” Dean huffed, before turning and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

 

Castiel’s grip on the plant loosened and his shoulders slumped.

 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, staring at the door.

 

“Nonsense, he needed to hear it,” Ellen said, reseating herself. “You will be incredibly useful on this mission.”

 

Castiel sat back down as the plant returned to its original state. He caught the greedy look on Meg’s face before he quickly looked away.

 

“We need to discuss these powers of yours,” Ellen said, placing the tips of her fingers together and surveying Castiel over them. “They were unknown to us before now.”

 

“I’m Mahai,” Castiel admitted with a sigh.

 

“That much,” Ellen said, “is clear. I want to know the extent of your power.”

 

“What do you mean?” Castiel said cautiously, eyeing Ellen with suspicion.

 

“What is the biggest or strongest plant you have manipulated?” Ellen elaborated.

 

“Oh, um.” Castiel considered this. “Well there was this moment in the mountains with Dean. We were attacked by vlek in the caves.”

 

“Indeed?” said Ellen, her brows rising in surprise.

 

“Yes,” Castiel continued. “Dean was attacked and I sort of… panicked.”

 

“Go on,” Ellen pressed.

 

“Well I cracked the stone.”

 

“You what?” Jo piped up, looking thunderstruck.

 

“I thought Mahais' power lay in plant life,” Pam said, her brow furrowed.

 

“It does,” Castiel said quickly. “I split the rock with roots, used them to drag Dean and the vlek who had him apart.”

 

He could also manipulate plants to take on a certain density or elasticity, but he wasn’t going to share that unless asked about it specifically.

 

“Well that is very impressive,” Ellen said. “Did Michael know of your abilities?”

 

“Yes,” Castiel said. “It’s why he kept me alive.”

 

“Oh?” Ellen prompted, fixing Castiel with that quizzical look.

 

“I think he just wanted to know more about how it works,” Castiel lied. He didn’t want to risk Ellen changing her mind about him going on the rescue mission. He couldn’t let Dean go off like that.

 

“Is that so?” Ellen said, and her gaze was so piercing that Castiel felt sure she knew he wasn’t telling her everything.

 

But he had a good poker face having grown up in court. He met her gaze with his own and nodded.

 

“Well butter my ass and call me a biscuit,” Pam said, slapping her knee. “We’ve got the trump card now haven’t we?”

 

“It would appear so,” Ellen said slowly, still giving Castiel that searching look.

 

“If that is all,” Castiel broke in. “I’d like to be excused.”

 

“Of course,” said Ellen, and her intense gaze broke off as she looked back down at her notes. “Go and find Dean. But Castiel, I'd like to talk to you later if that's okay. In private.”

  
Castiel nodded and rose from the table. He could feel all of their eyes on him as he left, and knew that they’d be talking about him once he was gone. He didn’t care. He just wanted to find Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates over the weekend! Was mad busy x


	11. Chapter 11

It took him a while, but when Castiel did find Dean, he was leaning on the railing at the end of the sprawling lawn. Benny stood beside him, both of their backs to the house as they looked out over the rolling hills, which were bright with sunshine and the fiery leaves of trees. As Castiel approached, Dean turned towards Benny and said something, staring at the floor as he did. Benny raised a hand and knocked Dean’s chin up to look at him, before placing it on Dean’s arm. Castiel froze.

 

Dean smiled, but moved away. Castiel let out a sigh of relief and continued towards them. He strode right up to them, surprising Dean as he appeared suddenly at his side.

 

“If you’d excuse us, Benny,” Castiel said, fixing Benny with the coolest of looks. “I’d like to talk to Dean in private.”

 

“Sure thing, brother,” Benny said, tilting his head to Castiel before turning to go back inside.

 

Dean immediately turned away from Castiel and went back to leaning his elbows on the fence.

 

“You’re not even going to look at me?” Castiel asked, and there was so much sorrow in his voice that Dean turned back towards him.

 

Castiel’s shoulders were slumped, the corners of his mouth dragged down and his lips pressed firmly together as though he was trying to stop his face from crumbling.

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Dean sighed, exasperated.

 

He stepped forwards and wrapped Castiel in a hug. Castiel let out a shuddery breath, and wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, burying his face in his chest.

 

“If you didn’t look so goddamn pathetic,” Dean muttered angrily into Castiel’s hair. “Standing there with your puppy dog eyes and that sweater that’s about five sizes too big for you.”

 

Castiel grinned into Dean’s chest, content to listen to Dean’s mutterings if it meant that he could hold him.

 

After a moment they moved apart slightly, still holding each other.

 

“I can’t let you go alone, Dean,” Castiel implored, staring up into Dean’s annoyed gaze. “You know I can’t. You wouldn’t be able to face it either so don’t act like you wouldn’t have done exactly the same thing back there.”

 

Dean’s frown deepened, but he folded Castiel back against his chest. He didn’t reply, but Castiel knew that the argument was too sound for Dean to be able to find a problem with it. He’d probably try, he’d probably attempt to talk Castiel out of it. But he didn’t stand a chance. Castiel was going.

 

“C’mon, you big baby,” Dean sighed after a while. “Let’s go and get something to eat.”

 

They turned back towards the house together, their hands linked.

 

“So,” Castiel said, in what he hoped was a casual tone. “Does Benny have a girlfriend?”

 

Dean snorted. He drew Castiel towards him and planted a kiss on his cheek.

 

“You’re adorable when you’re jealous,” Dean murmured in Castiel’s ear.

 

“I am not jealous,” Castiel said defensively.

 

“Oh really?” Dean said, his eyebrows raised as he moved back to get a better view of Castiel. “So you gonna ask me if Charlie’s got a girlfriend?”

 

“Well I— wait Charlie’s gay?” Castiel said in surprise, as they made it onto the patio.

 

“As a pink feather bower,” Dean said happily.

 

“Don’t stereotype,” Castiel scolded, making Dean snort.

 

They went in through the back doors of the house, which entered into what looked like some sort of ballroom.

 

“I’d forgotten how swanky this place is,” Dean said, as they both took in the high ceilings, which were painted with scenes of robbed figures lounging on clouds.

 

Dean detached himself from Castiel and strode to the centre of the floor. He span around with a flourish, and flicked imaginary coat tails out of the way.

 

“Care to dance, your majesty?” he asked, one eyebrow raised in a challenge as he held a hand out to Castiel.

 

Castiel tilted his head to one side, a smirk on his own face.

 

“You know how to dance?” Castiel asked, drawing nearer.

 

“I may know a thing or two,” Dean said slyly, taking Castiel’s hand as he reached him.

 

“But we have no music,” Castiel pointed out, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder as Dean took his waist. “And you’re leading?”

 

“I am,” Dean said simply. “And we can make our own music, your majesty.”

 

“Stop calling me that,” Castiel said, rolling his eyes as Dean stepped backwards, drawing Castiel with him.

 

“But it’s your title, no?” Dean said, then with mock horror; “unless I have been mistaken and you are not the prince I thought you were, and I am dancing with a mere peasant.”

 

Dean mimed spitting in disgust before grinning at Castiel.

 

“I’m afraid you have been ill informed,” Castiel said, as Dean flung him out into a spin, both of them raising their free hands in a flourish before Dean spun him all the way in so Castiel’s back was against Dean’s chest. “I am in fact a commoner.”

 

“Is that so?” Dean murmured, his mouth finding Castiel’s ear and giving it a little nip.

 

“Oh yes,” Castiel said as they swayed together. “I am in fact the son of a humble farmer.”

 

Dean laughed, and span Castiel back out, before drawing them close together, now facing each other.

 

“But alas,” Dean continued, winking at Castiel as he drew him into another box step. “I am the son of a nobleman, and cannot possibly be fraternising with someone such as yourself.”

 

“Our love is doomed,” Castiel gasped dramatically, making Dean break out into a fit of laughter.

 

“Are we waltzing?” a voice said from behind Dean.

 

They turned to see Charlie bouncing across marble floor towards them.

 

“Gentlemen,” she said in a sombre voice as she skidded to a stop in front of them and bowed deeply.

 

Castiel laughed.

 

“You, my fair lady,” she said to Castiel, straightening and offering her hand. “May I have this dance?”

 

“Of course,” Castiel said, curtseying and pretending to fan himself as he extended his hand.

 

Charlie took it and kissed it.

 

“Okay,” Dean said putting his hands up. “You two can continue with this shit, I'm gonna go get me some meat.”

 

“I think you'll need to take Cas with you for that,” Charlie said with a wicked grin.

 

Dean gave a sarcastic laugh before turning and heading towards the door. Castiel hurried to catch up with him, desperate for something to eat himself. Charlie came along too, her and Dean swapping jokes as they went.

 

Castiel smiled along, happy to listen rather than participate. When they entered the kitchen a delicious smell hit them, and they saw Benny bent over an aga, peering inside. He straightened when he saw them.

 

“Just in time,” he said, smiling at them. “These look ready.”

 

And he drew out a tray of steaming ribs, glistening with sauce.

 

“Oh mama,” Dean said, going to grab one.

 

Benny slapped his hand, making Dean squawk in surprise.

 

“Get a plate, boy,” he scolded, turning to fetch some salad and potatoes from the side.

 

Castiel grinned in spite of himself at Dean’s stunned look, and went to help Charlie with the plates.

 

The kitchen was large and well equipped, the aga Benny had been cooking in a huge thing, with many pots and pans hung above it. Well loved wooden surfaces held the mark of much use, and the table that Benny had placed the ribs on was scuffed. Castiel assumed that a house like this would have a dining room and this room was only for the prep, but he much preferred it to the grandeur of the rest of the house.

 

A moment later and they were tucking in. Castiel had only been vaguely aware of how hungry he was until he'd smelt the food. He now ate eagerly, though not half as eagerly as Dean, who was making keen noises of approval.

 

“It's like watching a starving animal,” Charlie said, looking slightly disgusted as Dean went for a second helping of potatoes.

 

“I am a starving animal,” Dean said through a mouthful of food.

 

“Ew, Dean.” Charlie threw her balled up napkin at him. “That's really gross.”

 

Dean ignored her, digging back into his food.

 

“Do you know where Naomi is?” Castiel asked Charlie, who was still staring at Dean, her nose wrinkled.

 

“No idea,” Charlie said. “That woman moves around so much you never know where she's gonna be… well Ellen probably does, but yeah. I expect she'll come here though once she hears you've arrived.”

 

Dean nodded in agreement before swallowing.

 

“She was very keen for me to find you,” he said. “Kept harping on about you being the heart of the resistance et cetra et cetra.”

 

“I can assure you there are more important people in play than me,” Castiel said, shredding meat off his rib.

 

“Nah, you're it,” Charlie said confidently.

 

Dean nudged his shoulder and gave him a smile.

 

Castiel wasn't sure how to feel about this. He'd spent so long removed from politics that the idea of being an integral political player was rather unsettling.

 

They continued eating without talk of Castiel’s position in the resistance though. Benny and Charlie caught them up with the movements of the resistance, and what they knew Michael was doing, and what they suspected.

 

“He's made some pretty serious moves,” Charlie said, pausing her eating and leaning forward. “Dean you already know this, but Michael is making moves on Nehrin.”

 

Castiel sighed, unsurprised by the distressing news.

 

“That’s what got so many of us Nehrinians involved in the resistance,” Charlie explained.

 

The conversation was subdued after that. Castiel tried to help Charlie with the dishes when they were finished but she insisted that he’d only just arrived and should relax.

 

So he and Dean went and lazed around on the sofas in the red lounge, which had been left undisturbed by the industrious resistance members. There was a rich warmth to the room, touches of red and gold in the cosy furniture and the blazing fire in the hearth making Castiel feel sleepy. He lay on his back on the sofa with his head in Dean’s lap, as Dean stroked his hair with one hand and held a book with the other. Castiel was too sleepy to even consider reading, so contented himself with staring into the fire. It was nice to be indoors on a proper sofa after so long outdoors on the hard ground.

 

A couple of hours of blissful peace went by, before the door opened behind them. Castiel jerked awake from the light doze he’d been in.

 

“Sorry to disturb you both,” Ellen said, coming into view. “I need to talk to Castiel if you wouldn’t mind, Dean.”

 

Castiel sat up as Dean closed his book.

 

“Anything you say to me can be said in front of Dean,” Castiel said, matching Ellen’s intense gaze.

 

There was a pause as they stared each other down. Castiel was used to eye contact as a power game.

 

“Alright,” Ellen said after a moment, and settled herself on the opposite sofa.

 

She gazed into the fire for a while, apparently lost in thought. Castiel saw Dean shooting him a confused look out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t look at him. He knew how these things had to be played.

 

“I need to know everything you know about Michael,” Ellen said after a while.

 

She looked up at Castiel, her gaze as intense as ever.

 

“I know very little I’m afraid,” Castiel said, matching Ellen’s calm manner. “I do not say that out of loyalty to him or to the court, he murdered my parents. I’m just telling you not to get your hopes up.”

 

Ellen inclined her head slightly. “Thank you, I will take your word for it.”

 

“Michael kept me imprisoned for fourteen years,” Castiel started. “This was after he murdered my parents and many of their loyal subjects in the dead of night. He kept me in a room which was comfortable, but always locked. Sometimes, he’d make me wear manacles. This was only when he was feeling vindictive or I’d tried to escape or hurt a guard.”

 

Dean placed a hand on Castiel’s knee, giving it a squeeze. Castiel smiled but didn’t break eye contact with Ellen.

 

“He performed experiments on me,” Castiel continued. “I didn’t tell you this earlier as I thought you might stop me from going with Dean on the rescue mission tomorrow. But I can see that you are untroubled by my value to Michael, and you have your own motives for letting me go tomorrow.”

 

A hint of a smile played on Ellen’s lips, and Castiel could see her reassessing him.

 

“Michael thought my powers could extend his life. He was unsuccessful in his experiments however. This was the only time I was allowed to eat fresh fruit. Mahais cannot access their power without having fresh fruit in their system. The fresher the better. My health suffered for it, and when I did get fruit for the experiments, I was locked in a stone cell afterwards, which had walls that were several feet deep. I have no idea the true extent of my power for this reason, I’ve never really had the chance to test it.”

 

He fell silent for a moment, breaking eye contact with Ellen for the first time to gaze into the crackling fire.

 

“Michael is power hungry,” he said after a moment. “He’s mad with it. It doesn’t surprise me to find out that he’s trying to invade your country. He was very careful never to speak of his plans around me though, so I’m afraid I do not know what he’s up to. The only thing I can share with you is that he thinks my powers might extend his life in some way. However, I don’t know if this is true, or where he got the idea from.”

 

There was silence after Castiel finished speaking. He looked up to see Ellen considering him.

 

“Very well,” she said after a moment. “Thank you for being so honest with me, Castiel.”

 

She stood up.

 

“I still think you should be allowed to go tomorrow,” she said, giving Dean a warning look when he opened his mouth to protest. “I don’t think I’d be able to stop you if I wanted to. But be careful. If Michael is right about your powers, that could have serious consequences for all of us.”

 

Castiel inclined his head to her, and she left the room. Dean let out a low whistle when she’d gone.

 

“She can really turn the heat on can’t she?” he said, flopping back to rest on the cushions. “She’s all warm and joking one second, and the next she’s looking at you like she can read your freakin’ mind.”

 

“Quite,” Castiel agreed, leaning back against Dean’s shoulder as Dean looped an arm around his waist.

 

“You held up well though.” Dean gave him a prod in the ribs which made Castiel spasm and smack his hand away.

 

“I’m used to that kind of power play,” Castiel shrugged.

 

“Power play, eh?” Dean said, a sly smile on his face.

 

“How do you manage to make that sound dirty?” Castiel sighed, rolling his eyes.

 

“Oh I dunno,” Dean said, sitting up straight and freeing his arm from behind Castiel. “Maybe because when I think of power play I think of this.”

 

He suddenly swung his leg over Castiel and straddled his lap, pinning Castiel’s wrists up on either side of his shoulders against the back of the sofa. Dean sat there looking smug as Castiel stared helplessly up at him.

 

“Trapped am I?” Castiel asked, trying to sound cynical, but his voice quavered slightly.

 

Dean smirked, seeing the helpless arousal in Castiel’s eyes.

 

“Oh yes,” Dean said. “If you don’t do the plant stuff, I’ve thoroughly got the upper hand.”

 

Castiel pushed against Dean’s grip, testing it. Dean grinned when Castiel’s arms remained trapped.

 

“I may have to agree with you there,” Castiel said, slightly breathless as Dean pushed his hips down into Castiel’s.

 

“Mmm,” Dean hummed, and leant down to bite at Castiel’s neck.

 

Castiel gasped and let his head fall back. He pressed against Dean’s hands again, but Dean held him tight. Castiel groaned, ridiculously turned on by this dominant side of Dean.

 

“Dean,” Castiel gasped as Dean put extra pressure into a bite.

 

“Mmm… you taste good, creature,” Dean murmured against his neck, and Castiel smiled at the nickname.

 

Dean pressed his hips down again and Castiel groaned.

 

“Please, Dean,” Castiel panted, his eyes falling shut.

 

“Hmm I think you should beg for exactly what you want,” Dean said, moving to kiss Castiel’s lip, dragging his bottom lip out slightly with his teeth.

 

“Fuck,” Castiel stuttered, his chest heaving as Dean moved back slightly to look at him. “I— I want you to touch me Dean, please, Dean, I want your hands on me, I… I want your fingers inside me, please.”

 

Dean raised his eyebrows at this last part, searching Castiel’s face for any sign of doubt.

 

“Well then,” Dean said, leaning forward to speak against Castiel’s mouth, making Castiel tremble as their lips brushed together. “Seeing as you asked so nicely.”

 

He suddenly pulled Castiel up by the wrists so they were both standing. Dean kissed him briefly, before turning and dragging him to the door. They stumbled down the corridor together, giggling and snatching kisses. Dean pressed Castiel up against a wall at one point, his hands in Castiel’s hair, pulling his head back to suck at his pulse. Castiel groaned and clutched at Dean, their clothing rumpled and their hair messy.

 

They hurried up the stairs, snickering and running when they heard voices coming nearer. Castiel broke away at the top of the stairs and ran away from Dean down the corridor towards their room. Dean gave chase, catching Castiel just as he turned the handle to their room.

 

They fell into the bedroom in a tangle, Dean slamming the door closed behind them with his foot as he lifted Castiel’s sweater. Castiel let him tug it and the t-shirt beneath it off in one go, reaching for Dean’s shirt. He almost ripped off the buttons in his haste.

 

They fell onto the bed, Dean kissing down Castiel’s bare chest as he moved back to rest his head on the pillows. Castiel traced his fingertips over Dean’s shoulders as Dean kissed a trail over the scar on Castiel’s abdomen. Then he sat back, and made quick work of Castiel’s belt and jeans buttons. He stripped off Castiel’s jeans, and kissed down Castiel’s inner thigh.

 

Castiel hummed happily at the feeling of Dean’s lips on his skin. Dean ran a fingertip under the band of Castiel’s boxers, making him shiver. Then he roughly pulled them down, making Castiel gasp.

 

Dean was clearly done with teasing, as he took Castiel fully into his mouth straight away. Castiel gasped and grabbed the pillow. The tip of his cock touched the back of Dean’s throat, and Dean rolled his tongue over the underside of it. Castiel choked out incomprehensible words, before gasping as Dean moved his mouth up and then sharply down again. The pressure was almost unbearable, making Castiel writhe.

 

Dean continued to bob his head, making Castiel twist his head and stuff the pillow into his mouth to stop the noise.

 

“Dean,” Castiel gasped. “Dean, stop.”

 

Dean released Castiel’s cock with a pop, blinking up at him innocently.

 

“Why?” Dean asked.

 

“Because I want to taste you,” Castiel said breathlessly, sitting up to kiss Dean.

 

Dean moaned into the kiss.

 

“You don't have to if you're not ready,” Dean said when their lips parted.

 

Castiel pushed him up so he was kneeling above him.

 

“I'm more than ready,” Castiel said, his eyes hooded with lust as he looked up at the breathless Dean and started to undo his jeans.

 

He worked them off along with his boxers, until Dean knelt before him in all his glory. Castiel blinked up at Dean, his mouth open a little as he took Dean in his hand.

 

Dean's body trembled and he held onto Castiel’s shoulders to steady himself. Then Castiel placed his lips against Dean’s head, just letting them rest there. Dean let out a little moan, his fingers tightening momentarily on Castiel’s shoulders. Then, ever so slowly, inch by inch, Castiel took Dean into his mouth.

 

“Oh fuck, Cas,” Dean groaned, and Castiel looked up to see he was biting his lip, his eyes on Castiel's mouth where it held Dean’s cock.

 

Castiel liked the weight of Dean in his mouth, the way he had to stretch his mouth to fit Dean in and the way his dick twitched when he licked it. Castiel tested his gag reflex, making Dean tremble as he took him deep. Whilst he held him there he swallowed, making Dean whimper and clutch at his shoulders. Then he moved his head back and began to suck.

 

The noises Dean was making were very enjoyable. From deep, guttural moans, to the lightest of gasps as Castiel sucked. Castiel took this to mean he was doing it correctly, and sped up slightly.

 

Dean let out a choked moan and buried one hand in Castiel’s hair.

 

“Cas, Cas, oh god,” Dean groaned.

 

Castiel worked him hard, tasting Dean’s precum in the back of his throat.

 

“Cas, oh god, Cas stop,” Dean gasped.

 

Castiel moved backwards slightly, letting Dean's cock slide out of his mouth. He looked at it in disappointment, then up at Dean.

 

“Why?” Castiel asked.

 

“Cos’ I don't want to cum before I've made you scream,” Dean said, a glint in his eyes as he looked down at the flushed Castiel.

 

“O-okay,” Castiel stuttered, and Dean moved off the bed to go to his pack.

 

He rummaged around inside it whilst Castiel waited patiently for whatever Dean was getting. Dean turned with a little bottle in his hand.

 

“What’s that?” Castiel asked, confused.

 

“Lube,” Dean explained, climbing back onto the bed. “What did you just think I was gonna shove my fingers up inside you dry?”

 

“No,” Castiel said, embarrassed that he had no idea how to do any of this.

 

Dean smiled and crawled over to kiss him full on the lips.

 

“It’s okay,” Dean said to a flushed Castiel. “I’ll show you.”

 

Dean uncorked the little glass bottle and poured some onto his fingers.

 

“Lie down,” Dean instructed, and Castiel did as he was told.

 

Dean crawled between his legs and kissed his way back down to his cock. He sucked Castiel into his mouth again, making Castiel’s breathing hitch. Castiel was shuddering by the time Dean’s finger pressed lightly against his hole.

 

Castiel looked down and saw that Dean was watching him. Very slowly he pressed his finger in. Castiel gasped. The lube was cold, but Dean’s finger felt fine. He imagined that it’d be more painful to have Dean’s cock in him, but that was for another time.

 

Then Dean curled his finger slightly and Castiel cried out.

 

“O-oh,” Castiel breathed out shakily. “That was— fuck!”

 

Dean had slid his finger over the spot inside him again. This was what Castiel had heard about from an older friend as a kid. They’d giggled uncontrollably at the idea of two adults doing this, but this wasn’t funny at all.

 

Dean flicked his tongue over the head of Castiel’s cock and then released it. He moved up so he could kiss Castiel, his finger still inside him.

 

“I’m going to try another one, okay?” Dean murmured, watching Castiel’s face closely for a sign of discomfort.

 

Castiel nodded, heady from the feeling of having Dean bending over him, their faces inches apart as Dean drunk in his arousal with hungry eyes. Dean pulled his finger out, only to reinsert it along with a second.

 

Castiel let out a shaky breath. He could feel the stretch now, but it still felt fine. In fact the slight stretch was nice. Castiel arched his back to drive Dean’s fingers deeper. Dean’s eyes widened in surprise as Castiel let out a whimper.

 

“Dean,” Castiel moaned, his breathing quick and jagged.

 

Dean bit his lip, staring at Castiel as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of him. Castiel’s hips rocked in rhythm with Dean’s hand. He reached up to grip the pillow, and Dean groaned at the sight of him as Castiel’s eyes screwed shut and he arched his back.

 

“Dean, Dean, oh,” Castiel gasped. “Dean that feels good, oh god, oh.”

 

Dean sat back and took Castiel’s cock in his hand, making Castiel cry out as Dean set a relentless pace.

 

“Dean! Oh, oh god,” Castiel whimpered. “I’m— I’m close.”

 

Dean hummed in approval, and the green of his eyes seemed even brighter as he watched Castiel writhe, clutching the pillow desperately. Dean stroked a thumb over Castiel’s slit, before resuming his pace. Castiel let out choked gasps as Dean pumped into him and around him. Then he really did scream out as he came hard, biting down on his hand a moment later to stop the noise. He felt his load cover his stomach, but had his eyes tight shut. Dean worked him until the end, until Castiel quivered and jerked at Dean’s touch. Then Dean drew his fingers out and let Castiel's cock flop onto his stomach.

 

Castiel sat up, his face slack and his limbs heavy. Dean tilted his chin up and kissed him.

 

“Hm I love that dazed look you get,” Dean murmured, smoothing his thumb over Castiel’s bottom lip.

 

Castiel hummed, and pulled Dean’s hips up so he was kneeling up.

 

“Wha— ohh,” Dean sighed as Castiel took him back into his mouth.

 

He was already very hard, and it didn’t take long before he was gasping Castiel’s name and his load was filling Castiel’s mouth. Castiel drew back and swallowed, wondering at the taste. It was not the best thing in the world, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

 

Dean watched him helplessly, falling back to sit on his heels, his forehead pinched and his chest heaving as he gasped for breath.

 

“That was— that was good,” Dean stuttered, reaching up to push a hand through his hair.

 

Castiel leant forwards and pecked Dean on the lips, before climbing off the bed to go to the bathroom.

 

“Where are you going?” Dean asked, looking disappointed.

 

“To shower,” Castiel replied, flicking the light switch on. Only half the homes in Anglestad had electricity, the rest still using gas, but Castiel wasn’t surprised to find that this one did.

 

“Would you like to join me?” Castiel asked, and Dean nodded eagerly and followed him.

 

The bathroom was large and well equipped, with a shower rather than a bath and plenty of soaps for them to use. They spent most of the shower kissing or getting rather distracted by each others wet bodies, but they were eventually clean and dressed to go downstairs.

 

When they entered the kitchen Jo, who was sat at the table, let out a loud wolf whistle.

 

“Hey boys,” Pam said, from where she sat opposite Jo. “Enjoy your bedroom?”

 

“We know they did, Pam,” Charlie cut in, from where she leant against the counter with her arm around the waist of a pretty brunette woman. “We could freakin’ hear that they did.”

 

Castiel felt his face flush hot and he froze in the process of pulling out a chair.

 

“Yeah Cas does have quite a pair of lungs on him,” Dean said, a wicked grin on his face as he took a seat next to Pam.

 

Castiel stared at him, his mouth opening and closing silently, his whole face burning.

 

“Oh sit down, Cas,” Jo said, exasperated. “We’ve heard Charlie and Dorothy too, you’re not alone.”

 

Castiel sat down at the head of the table with Dean on his right, his face still bright red.

 

“Well that’s a lovely introduction, thanks Jo,” the brunette woman said, before shifting her gaze to Castiel. “Hey, I’m Dorothy.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Castiel said, rather quietly.

 

“Want a beer?” Dorothy asked, going over to the fridge.

 

“Oh, um, okay,” Castiel agreed. He never usually drank much, but figured it’d be weird to be the only one not drinking.

 

Dorothy fetched him and Dean one, not even having to ask if Dean wanted one, before returning to loop her arm around Charlie’s waist.

 

“So you’re joining us tomorrow night I hear?” Dorothy prompted, and Castiel nodded.

 

“Yes,” he confirmed.

 

“Well from what these lot say you’ll come in very handy,” Dorothy continued. “I’d love to see your Mahai stuff at some point, if that’s not an impolite request, I don’t really know what the proper etiquette is for these things.”

 

“Not at all,” Castiel said, taking a sip of his beer. “I’d be happy to show you.”

 

“Oo Cas, you haven’t properly tested it yet,” Dean said excitedly. “Apart from in the mountains. Let’s go try now, eh?”

 

“Um, okay,” Castiel agreed, shy now that everyone was looking at him eagerly. “Is there any fruit around?”

 

“Sure.” Charlie chucked an apple at him.

 

Castiel caught it, standing as he bit into it. The others all hurried to follow him and they headed out into the garden. The day was overcast, a breeze tugging at their hair and clothing as they strode across the lawn.

 

“Might as well start big,” Castiel said, heading for an oak tree that stood near the railing at the end of the lawn.

 

When they reached it, Castiel stared up into it branches, chewing thoughtfully on the last of the apple. Then he tossed the core to one side and stretched out his hands towards the tree. It wasn't necessary for him to use his hands, but he felt like it focused him.

 

The tree responded quickly, its branches stretching down to meet his outstretched hands. Castiel smiled as the branches curled themselves around his palms.

 

Charlie broke out into applause whilst Jo whooped in appreciation. Dorothy just stood there smiling whilst Pam said “nice work, kid.”

 

Dean however looked simply thrilled.

 

“Isn't he great, look how great he is, he's so talented,” he gushed, looking at Castiel with such pride and awe that Castiel felt his heart swell to five times its usual size in his chest.

 

“Reel it in, Winchester,” Jo said, clearly amused by how gushy Dean had gone.

 

Castiel turned his attention back to the tree. He began to twist the roots in his hands, stretching them, thinning others, increasing the elasticity of one, until he had a large and beautiful bow in his hands.

 

The others ooed at the sight, and Castiel stretched the bow string back, aiming at a tree in the distance. He took a deep breath in, and on the exhale he let the arrow fly. It struck the trunk of the other tree with a solid thump, and Castiel grinned as the others cheered.

 

“Okay,” Castiel said. “To be fair I'm just showing off, I already knew I could do that stuff. Let's go for something harder.”

 

He released the bow, and the branches receded back to their original state. There was silence as Castiel stared at the tree. The wind rustled in its branches, and Castiel felt it in them like he felt it through his own hair. Then there was a creaking.

 

The ground shifted and one of the group behind him let out a cry of surprise. A massive root burst from the earth, scattering clumps of dirt as it swayed up into the air like some kind of many headed snake. Castiel gritted his teeth, and another root ripped itself from the earth, causing tremors that caused one of the girls to curse loudly.

 

The tree, now with two massive roots free, used them to start hauling itself up from the ground. Castiel was sweating, his hands clenched into fists and his body shaking. It was as though he was inside the tree. He could feel the grain of its wood, could taste its sap, the earth that fed it, the weight of brown leaves it was ready to drop.

 

The ground started to fall away alarming, but Castiel held it steady with the help of the grass and other roots that snaked through it. The tree was now almost completely out of the earth. It loomed, enormous before them, a giant set free from its bonds, and ever so slowly, it started to crawl across the lawn.

 

“Castiel!” The shout reached them, and the momentary distraction almost made Castiel drop the tree.

 

He caught it as it swayed dangerously, his hands snapping up automatically as though to improve the connection. He strained to control it, and slowly changed its direction. He pushed it back across the little distance it had gained, made its roots snake back into the soil, and once they had a proper hold, he released it and allowed the tree to sink back to its usual state.

 

He turned. Ellen was striding across the lawn, her face stricken as her hair flew out behind her. Meg came in her wake, her eyes glittering as she stared at Castiel.

 

“Fucking hell you gave me a fright,” Ellen said, her voice shrill as she reached them.

 

Castiel looked at her slightly dazed.

 

“Cas,” Dean said gently, coming to steady him with an arm under his. “Your nose.”

 

Castiel put a hand to his nose and drew it away to see blood.

 

“Oh,” he said, dazed.

 

“We may have overdone it a bit,” Dean said, giving Castiel a worried look. “Sorry Ellen, didn't mean to startle you. I'm gonna take Cas inside to lie down.”

 

With that Dean lead Castiel through the group towards the house. Castiel felt dizzy, and his vision was a little blurry.

 

“To think I was going to see if I could control a second tree at the same time.” Castiel chuckled slightly at the thought, which only made Dean give him another worried look.

 

Benny, Rachel, Inias, Kevin and a few other people that Castiel had never seen before were huddled around the back door. Benny held out a handkerchief as they passed. Dean took it gratefully and gave it to Castiel for his nose. Dean lead him quickly through the ballroom and up the stairs.

 

Castiel sighed with relief when they reached their bedroom, and crawled onto the bed. Dean removed his shoes before he crawled under the duvet, still clutching the handkerchief to his nose.

 

“What were you thinking?” Dean scolded, pulling off his own shoes before climbing onto the bed to sit on top of the covers.

 

He leant against the headboard as he smoothed Castiel's hair back from his head.

 

“Why did you push yourself so hard?” Dean asked, sounding disapproving.

 

“I wanted to see what I can do,” Castiel said, pulling away the handkerchief to touch his nose. The bleeding seemed to have stopped.

 

“You idiot,” Dean said fondly, stroking Castiel’s hair as he tucked himself against Dean’s hip.

 

“I feel all woozy,” Castiel mumbled, closing his eyes.

 

Dean laughed.

 

“Well how about you go to sleep,” he said. “I’ll wake you for dinner, kay?”

 

“Okay,” Castiel agreed, and nuzzled in closer to Dean’s side.

  
Dean stroked his hair, and Castiel let the tide of sleep pull him under.


	12. Chapter 12

The next day was spent planning for the rescue mission that night. Castiel ate as much fruit as he could, determined to keep up his strength. Dean was still grumbling about him coming, and tried to use Castiel’s faintness from the day before as an excuse for him to stay behind. But after pointing out that he had made a full recovery, Castiel refused to speak on the matter, choosing to behave as though he’d gone mysteriously deaf every time Dean bought it up.

 

Dean was too hyped up about the possibility of rescuing his brother to pester Castiel too much though. He buzzed around checking plans and blueprints, cleaning his gun and repositioning his knife holster several times.

 

Castiel left him to it. He chose to discuss tactics with the rest of the party and consult the blueprint, before retreating to read in the red lounge.

 

The day seemed to fall away at an alarming speed, until night fell and it was time for them to go. Castiel took a knife but refused a gun, ignoring Dean’s frown. The two of them piled into a van with Dorothy up front, and Jo, Meg, Rachel, and Inias in the back, and they set off, Ellen getting smaller and smaller in the rear window where she stood on the steps on the porch steps, illuminated by torchlight.

 

The night was starless with a thin sliver of a moon, a good sign for them. They saw no other cars, carriages, or horses on the road even though they drove for over an hour. Eventually it was time for Dorothy to flick the headlights off, and they slowed on a road that curved around the side of a hill. Dorothy killed the engine and they all got out.

 

Below them a valley opened out. It was entirely black save for an illuminated compound, a solid looking wall encircling a plain, sturdy building. Castiel could see the tiny flecks of guards as they paced under huge floodlights.

 

“Okay,” Jo said softly. “We’re gonna make our way down the side of this hill and enter into the drain about two hundred meters from the compound wall. Stay silent and stick together. Let’s go.”

 

She plunged off the road, disappearing down the steep side of the hill. Castiel waved to Dorothy, before following the others as they took after Jo.

 

The trees that surrounded them were dark and eery. Mysterious rustlings from unseen creatures sounded from around them, and it was almost completely impossible to see the ground. Castiel almost slipped a few times on the steep incline, and got hit in the face by twigs twice before he decided to use his Mahai senses to avoid them.

 

After a while of silent progress he heard Jo muttering.

 

“It’s around here somewhere,” she said, apparently having come to a stop. “I can’t see a freakin’ thing, how are we supposed to find it?”

 

“Here,” Castiel said, and he stepped forwards.

 

He stretched out his mind and groped along the forest floor, seeking. Then he felt it. A void that denied any roots to grow through it, rather they simply grew around it.

 

“It’s here,” Castiel said confidently, and strode past Jo to her right.

 

She had been off by quite a way in the dark, and it could have taken them a long while to find it.

 

“Brilliant,” Jo whispered, and joined Castiel where he stood peering through the darkness at where he knew the entrance to the drain sat.

 

He crouched down and felt for its handle. He found it, and with the help of Dean and Jo, they hoisted the drain cover off.

 

“Okay, I’ll go first,” Dean said from where he crouched next to Castiel.

 

Castiel wanted to object, but knew Dean wouldn’t hear it.

 

Dean shuffled around to the side of the hole with the ladder, and hoisted himself onto it. He disappeared down into the complete darkness a moment later.

 

“Dean?” Castiel hissed after a while.

 

A light flickered into view below them. Dean’s face was illuminated by his lighter, and he gestured for them to follow him. Castiel descended next, followed by Jo, then Inias, then Meg, and lastly Rachel.

 

A second light flickered on, and Jo came into view. She was holding up a gas lantern, and used it to check they were all present before turning away to walk off down the tunnel. They followed.

 

The tunnel was damp, but no water flowed around their feet. The light from the lantern and Dean’s lighter flickered over the wet walls as they went, illuminating the black and green stone. They walked for a long way before Jo hissed for them to stop. She was looking up at a circular door in the ceiling of the tunnel. A ladder lead up to it.

 

Dean pocketed his lighter, and climbed the ladder. He twisted the wheel to release the door with a grunt of effort, and pushed it upwards. He peered cautiously out of the narrow opening he’d made, then he went up by another step and took a proper look around.

 

“It’s clear,” he hissed down to the others, and climbed out of the hatch.

 

The others followed him, Jo the last to follow Castiel up and out into a dark room. Dean flicked on his lighter again, and they saw they’d come out into the basement, just as planned. A boiler and pipes ticked around them, and a door was set into the far wall.

 

“Alright,” Dean said. “We think we know where the captives are being held, but as planned we need to split up to check both possible locations. Castiel, Jo, you’re with me on the east wing. Rachel, Inias, Meg, you take the west wing. Let’s move.”

 

They crept to the door, and Meg sauntered past Dean. She gave him a sly smile before testing the door handle. It didn’t budge.

 

“Thought so,” she said, and pulled out some thin silver tools from her pocket.

 

She crouched next to the door, and inserted the implements into the lock. After a moment of her twiddling them around, there was a click, and Meg straightened. Then she twisted the handle and opened the door a crack.

 

“No one there,” she said over her shoulder. “Just as predicted.”

 

They followed her out into the corridor, which was clearly undergoing refurbishments. Paint tins were left abandoned, and a scaffold was pushed against one wall. They followed the corridor until it split in two opposite directions.

 

Meg gave them a salute, and disappeared off to the left, Rachel and Inias following in her wake. Dean, Jo and Castiel took the corridor to the right. After a while they reached a door. Dean tried it, and this one was unlocked. Light spilled into the corridor, and Castiel saw that the next corridor was free from any signs of building works.

 

“Okay,” Dean whispered. “This next part is going to be tricky. Stay close.”

 

He slipped into the corridor beyond, and Jo and Castiel followed him. Dean and Jo had their guns ready as they crept down the corridor, but Castiel was hoping for a more silent approach. He sensed the plants around and under the building, there was even what felt like a vine growing up one side of it. He supposed that one of these crashing into the building would hardly be silent, but it’d be better than a gunshot.

 

The corridor was a little like a hospital, all white and cold. They heard a radio coming from a room up ahead and approached cautiously. The door was only partly open though, and they slipped past the room unseen. After a few turns into new identical corridors, they heard voices up ahead.

 

“In here,” Dean hissed, and he dove into a supply closet.

 

Jo and Castiel hurried after him. They held their breath as they heard the two sets of voices turn onto the corridor and approach the door behind which they hid.

 

“—like some kind of chump, can you imagine?” a male voice was saying to his companion. “It’s not like I actually asked for it, I just floated the idea. The way he just bit my head off, seriously...”

 

The footsteps and accompanying voices grew quieter as they passed the door, until they’d gone completely. Castiel let out the breath he’d been holding. His heart was thumping so hard he was surprised the people in the corridor hadn’t heard it.

 

Jo opened the door a fraction, and peered through it. At her nod, they piled back out into the corridor and carried on. After a while they slowed.

 

“It’s somewhere around here,” Dean murmured, eyeing the doors as they passed them.

 

“Here!” Jo hissed.

 

She stood in front of a solid looking iron door. She tried the handle, but none of them were surprised when the door didn’t budge.

 

“I’ve got this,” Castiel whispered and he crossed to the window at the end of the corridor.

 

Checking that none of the guards outside could see him, he opened the window. Then he reached out with his mind. A vine curled up through the window and around his wrist. He lead it back over to the door, and let it climb from him to it. Castiel thinned the plant and let it bleed into the crack of the door. He felt with the vine, sensing the curves of the door as it did. Then he found the lock.

 

There was a crack. Castiel tried the handle and the door swung open. As the plant slipped away, the three of them peered into the room beyond. A huddle of terrified looking people stared at them from the corner.

 

“Sam?” Dean said, stepping forwards into the room.

 

None of the people moved. They were dirty, some of their clothes torn, and all of them looked rather thin.

 

“It’s okay,” Jo said softly, stepping around Dean. “We’ve come to get you out of here.”

 

The people reacted instantly to her words. They stepped forwards murmuring their thanks, until Dean hushed them all.

 

“Keep quiet,” he hissed. “We’re not safe yet. Have any of you seen a ridiculously tall guy, with dark, shoulder length hair? Name’s Sam?”

 

“I have,” a dark skinned woman piped up.

 

She stepped forwards. She was pretty, a halo of curly hair around her face.

 

“Where? Is he here?” Dean asked.

 

“He was brought here with me,” the woman continued. “But then they split us up into two groups.”

 

“Do you know where they took him?” Dean asked, as Jo started to usher the other captives towards the door.

 

“No idea,” the woman said, looking apologetic.

 

“He’s probably in the cell that the others are checking out,” Castiel said, patting Dean’s arm. “C’mon, we’ve got to move.”

 

They followed Jo back out into the corridor, trying to move silently, which was pretty difficult in a group as large as theirs. There was about ten to fifteen captives with them. They made it all the way to the unused area of the building without incident. And then there was a shout.

 

“You!” a shrill voice rang out, and Castiel was suddenly slammed into the wall by an unseen force.

 

Dean turned, gun at the ready as the captives took off running, Jo shouting instructions at them, turning her own gun on the woman who stood in the corridor behind them.

 

She was small, with a head of fiery red hair and she wore a long blue velvet dress. She shouted something and made a slashing motion with her hand, and Dean and Jo’s guns flew out of their hands, skidding along the floor until they lay at her feet.

 

“I’ll be taking those,” she said, and her accent had a strong northern twang.

 

Castiel reached for the plants with his mind, but the woman said something else and suddenly his air was cut off. He gasped and stumbled, clutching his throat.

 

“No!” Dean cried, grabbing Castiel to hold him up.

 

Then he rounded on the woman.

 

“Undo it,” he growled. “Release him, I swear if you kill him I will make sure you die in the most painful of ways.”

 

The woman laughed, her bright red lipstick making her mouth a violent slash, and she threw something at Dean. Thick black liquid sprung from the point at which the little brown bag hit Dean, and started wrapping itself around him. It coiled around his arms and legs, and he toppled to the floor. Castiel sank down beside him, still clutching his throat.

 

Jo lunged forwards, she sidestepped another of the woman’s brown bags, and her fist connected with the woman’s jaw before she could utter another incantation.

 

Castiel was suddenly able to breath, and he gasped huge lungfuls of air.

 

“Dean,” he gasped, and crawled to his side.

 

Dean was still struggling with the black liquid, which seemed thick and unbreakable. Castiel reached out and there was a splintering, groaning cracking as the floor split. A root burst through the floor and Jo and the woman staggered. Castiel wrapped it around Dean and tried to use it to tug at the liquid. But it was no good, the black substance just flowed around the root. And now it was wrapping itself around his throat, cutting off his air supply so he let out horrible choked gasps.

 

Castiel lunged out at the woman, and caught her with the root. She yelped as it lifted her clean off her feet. Jo scrambled out of the way as the floor fell away beneath her feet, exposing dirt and ruined concrete.

 

“Release him,” Castiel commanded, his voice booming as he stood and faced the woman.

 

His eyes blazed as he drew her towards him, her arms pinned to her sides by the root as she thrashed. There were shouts as guards crashed into the corridor, their guns drawn. Castiel slashed a second root at them, as thick as the tree trunk it fed, it clobbered them. They smashed into a wall, and crumpled.

 

“I said,” Castiel thundered, his eyes flashing. “Release him.”

 

The woman looked furious, before she spoke again.

 

“Evanestra,” she said, and Castiel turned to see the black substance trickling away, leaving Dean gasping but unharmed.

 

There was thundering footfalls behind them, and Rachel, Meg, and Inias burst into the corridor, as well as a tall man Castiel had never seen before.

 

“Sam!” Dean choked out, and he launched himself at his brother.

 

“Quai-vaestra incum tarem bal!” the woman’s voice rang out, and Castiel caught a glimpse of her, saw that she’d worked a hand free and slashed the air so a blazing symbol hung in the middle of the corridor.

  
And then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love me a cliffhanger.


	13. Chapter 13

Castiel blinked around, dazed. A grey, circular room met his eyes, and Castiel realised that he was lying in the centre of it, on a hard bed. He went to move, but found his wrists and feet bound.

 

“What—?”

 

“Ah, you’re awake,” a voice said, and the red-headed woman stepped into view.

 

Castiel let out a snarl, and reached for some form of plant life. But nothing happened.

 

“Ah yes,” the woman said sweetly. “You see, deary, your whole foliage thing wasn’t really doing it for me. So I took the trouble of bestowing upon you this amulet.”

 

She plucked a pendant which lay on Castiel’s chest up between her red nails. A smooth stone with a symbol glowing from its surface was attached to a black cord around Castiel’s neck.

 

“Lovely little invention of mine,” the woman said. “One of a kind, made specially with you in mind, deary.”

 

“Who are you?” Castiel hissed.

 

The woman dropped the pendant and flicked her curly hair over her shoulder.

 

“I am Rowena, my dear,” she said, proudly. “A well renowned witch and special friend of the king’s.”

 

Rowena smiled sweetly down at him.

 

“I of course know who you are,” she continued. “So good of Dean to warn me that you were coming.”

 

She turned and strode away.

 

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked, raising his head to watch her.

 

“Oh that Dean warned me that you’d be breaking in to rescue the captives of course,” Rowena said, her back to him as she plucked bottles down from a shelf.

 

“You’re lying,” Castiel spat, straining against his bonds.

 

“Oh no, deary,” Rowena said sweetly, turning with a collection of bottles in her hands. “The deal was quite clear. I get you, in exchange for his brother and the other captives. They are of course nowhere near as valuable to Michael as you are.”

 

Castiel glared at her as she came and stood over him.

 

“What? Did you think that he actually cared about you?” Rowena asked, giving him a sympathetic frown. “Oh no, you actually hoped he might even love you. Oh my poor dear.”

 

Rowena put her bottles down on the little table beside the bed, and cupped Castiel’s cheek. Castiel strained away from her.

 

“Don’t you know that the Winchesters care about no-one but each other?” Rowena sighed. “I’m really sorry to tell you my dear, oh it’s so sad. But deary, you should no if you were hoping for more, Dean cares for nobody other than Sam. And everyone around them ends up dead. Do you know what happened to their parents? Yes well that’s just the start of it.”

 

Castiel tried to block her words out. But he felt like he was drowning in them. Of course it would be so easy for another person to betray him, of course no-one actually cared for him, of course Dean could never love him.

 

Rowena uncorked one of the bottles and poured it into a bowl on the table, before uncorking another one and pouring that in too. The mixture hissed. She took a pinch of powder from a third and sprinkled that in, and then threw in a bird’s feather, a collection of small bones, and something that looked suspiciously like blood.

 

“Now, deary,” Rowena said, finishing her mixture with a flourish. “We’re going to start off with this. Michael is on his way, and he’ll want to see some progress in making you his lovely little immortality machine.”

 

She drew out a nasty looking needle from a leather case, and drew some of the mixture up into it.

 

“You might feel a slight pinch,” she said, and forced his head to the side.

 

Fear seized Castiel as he felt the prick of the needle in the side of his neck, and he struggled fruitlessly against the bonds.

 

There was a bang. Suddenly Rowena’s hands were gone, the needle too, and Castiel looked wildly around. Dean, Sam, Jo and Dorothy were standing at the top of the stairs, in front of a door blasted halfway off its hinges.

 

“Cas!” Dean cried out, and tore down the stairs, the others following.

 

Rowena was picking herself up off the floor, grasping her shoulder which was bleeding heavily.

 

“Avar—”

 

The incantation was cut off as she was forced to shield herself from a shot from Dorothy. Dorothy and Jo pummeled her shield with bullets as Rowena staggered under the onslaught. Dean tossed his gun to Sam, who joined in as Dean hurried to Castiel.

 

“Cas,” Dean moaned, looking half hysterical as he reached him.

 

He unbuckled the straps holding Castiel’s wrists and together they undid the ones binding his ankles.

 

“Oh god I’m so sorry, Cas,” Dean sobbed, and engulfed him in a hug.

 

“Regenstra!” Rowena shouted, and the pair of them turned in time to see Rowena blast a hole in the floor at her feet and fall into it.

 

Jo ran forwards, skidding to a halt at the edge of the hole, her gun ready. But Rowena had fallen through to the floor below, and had fled from the room beneath theirs.

 

“Dean, we have to go!” Castiel said, panic stricken as he slid from the table. “Michael’s on his way.”

 

“Right,” Dean said, and grabbed Castiel around the waist to haul him along, despite Castiel’s protests that he could in fact walk fine by himself.

 

Dorothy and Sam were already engaged in a heavy firefight with the guards in the corridor. Castiel wrenched the amulet off from around his neck and reached out. A branch, as thick as a python, snaked down the corridor. He heard startled cries as it clobbered the guards it encountered.

 

“We’re clear!” Jo called over her shoulder and barrelled off down the corridor.

 

The rest of them followed, and Castiel caught a glimpse of many unconscious bodies before he tore on.

 

“That was frickin’ awesome!” Sam cried gleefully.

 

“Dude,” Dean said. “You have no idea.”

 

They tore down corridor after corridor, the branch flying along with them. Castiel lashed out with it as they met more guards along the way, until finally they reached the basement.

 

They threw themselves down the ladder into the tunnel, and fled down it. Castiel released the branch, feeling it vanish from his conscience.

 

When they reached the ladder that they had descended earlier, they found Meg waiting for them at its top.

 

“C’mon!” she hissed, and they ran with her up the hill towards the road.

 

Castiel’s heart was attempting to tear itself out of his chest, and his lungs were screaming by the time they reached the road. They could hear the shouts of more guards arriving, but they had also reached the van. Inias stood at its back door, holding it open for them. They flung themselves inside.

 

“Everyone in?” Rachel shouted from the front, putting the van in gear.

 

“Yes, drive!” Jo half shrieked, and Rachel put her foot flat to the floor.

 

They tore off up the road, bouncing along in the back with the captives they’d just rescued. It was cramped, but none of them cared. They were gripping onto each other, staring out the back windows, just waiting for a car to appear in pursuit. But none came.

 

Dean held Castiel close to him, whilst also gripping Sam’s hand. Castiel had a feeling that it would be a little while before he let either of them go.

 

When they reached the Talbot house it was to a half deranged looking Ellen. She tore through the captives to reach her daughter, engulfing her in a bone crushing hug.

 

“Agh, Mum!” Jo protested, squirming.

 

“Sam!” Ellen cried, and flung herself at Sam next.

 

“Hi, Ellen,” Sam said, smiling as he patted the woman on the head.

 

Then she moved back and smacked him on the side of the head.

 

“Ow, hey!” Sam said, clutching his head and ducking away from her.

 

“Don’t you ever do that to me again, Sam Winchester,” Ellen thundered, pointing her finger at Sam.

 

“Okay, okay, jeez,” Sam said, rubbing his head. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Damn right you’re sorry,” Ellen muttered, turning to help shepherd the rescued captives into the house.

 

“Hey, sugar,” Pam’s drawl reached them, and she engulfed Sam in a hug before giving him a smack on the ass.

 

“Hey, Pam,” Sam smiled at her.

 

Then Benny, Kevin and Charlie were hugging him, and Dean and Castiel left them to it to help organise the all the new additions to the house.

 

Eventually they worked their way inside and made their way to the ballroom as it was the biggest room. Once there Ellen called for silence.

 

“Well it’s very good to see all of you,” Ellen said, looking slightly flushed as she looked around at them all. “You’re all very welcome here for as long as you need to stay, but we will of course help you get back to your respective homes and families if you need to.”

 

She paced in front of them, taking time to look each of them in the face.

 

“We are the resistance,” Ellen said. “We are fighting to bring down the king, and replace him with a fair government. If you would like to join us, you are welcome to. However, if you choose to betray us, know that we will find you, and you will pay the price.”

 

She stared around at them solemnly in the silence that followed this statement.

 

“Right,” Ellen said, clapping her hands. “That’s all from me. My friends here will help you get settled in the bedrooms, and you can wash before you join us again for something to eat. If you are in need of new clothes, we have a small collection for just such occasions. Thank you.”

 

The crowd broke out into chatter as Rachel, Inias, and other members of the resistance took it upon themselves to show the newcomers to their rooms. Sam found Dean and Castiel as they moved towards the door.

 

“So Castiel,” Sam started. “It’s an honour to meet you.”

 

“The same to you.” Castiel nodded to him. “Dean speaks very highly of you.”

 

“I’m glad,” Sam laughed, punching his brother on the shoulder. “Would you mind if I asked more about your Mahai abilities?”

 

“Sure, but perhaps some other time,” Castiel said, giving Sam a smile to let him know that it was okay. “I’m just quite tired tonight.”

 

“Of course, of course.” Sam nodded as they reached the stairs. “Dean where are we sleeping?”

 

Dean looped an arm around Castiel’s shoulders.

 

“Actually I’m sharing with Cas,” Dean said, making Sam’s eyebrows shoot up to nearly meet his hairline.

 

“Oh really?” Sam said, a grin sneaking onto his face as they climbed the stairs amongst the others.

 

“Really,” Dean said.

 

“Well then,” Sam said. “I’m going to go and find Jo.”

 

Sam hurried off after Jo to see which beds were free, and Dean and Castiel turned towards their bedroom. When they reached it, Castiel shed his jacket and shoes and entered the bathroom.

 

He turned on the hot tap as he tugged his shirt off over his head. He stared at his reflection. There was a bruise blooming across his chest, presumably from whatever spell Rowena had hit him with, and there was a cut on his forehead. Dean appeared behind him in the mirror.

 

“You okay?” Dean asked, snaking his arms around Castiel’s middle.

 

“Yes,” Castiel sighed. “Just tired. Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean replied, laying a kiss on Castiel’s bare shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Cas.”

 

“Why?” Castiel asked, confused.

 

“I promised you I wouldn’t let them get you,” Dean said, pressing his face into Castiel’s hair.

 

Castiel span around in Dean’s arms. He reached up and cupped his face, making Dean meet his eyes.

 

“Hey, hey listen,” Castiel said softly but firmly. “It’s not your fault, Dean. Rowena is an exceptionally powerful witch, she blindsided all of us.”

 

“But I wouldn’t be able to stand it if anything happened to you,” Dean said, and his voice shook a little.

 

Castiel kissed him, deep and slow. Dean’s arms tightened around him as he returned the kiss, his mouth desperate, full of guilt and apologies. Castiel kissed them away.

 

“Hey,” Castiel whispered. “You are just one man, Dean. Michael has resources that we can’t even imagine. We will always try to protect each other, but I’m afraid we may fail… although the thought of losing you is… indescribably painful.”

 

Castiel looked away. Dean caught his chin and drew his face back up to meet his gaze.

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Dean murmured, before he kissed him again.

 

They stayed that way for a while, before Castiel remembered the tap and turned to wash his face. Dean soaked a flannel in antiseptic ointment, and dabbed at the cut on Castiel’s forehead with it once he’d dried his face.

  
Then he and Castiel went and climbed into bed, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.


	14. Chapter 14

When Castiel awoke in the morning, he simply lay there and looked at Dean. The room was suffused by the rosy glow of a sunny dawn, and Castiel realised that they'd forgotten to draw the curtains before bed.

 

Dean’s face was peaceful in sleep, one hand on his chest as he lay on his back, his head falling slightly towards Castiel. His chest rose and fell with his steady breaths, the freckles on his nose bathed in the soft light of the room.

 

Castiel could feel it swelling in his chest as he watched Dean sleep, something he'd known about for a while but never fully acknowledged.

 

He was completely and utterly in love with this man.

 

Dean snuffled slightly in his sleep, and turned his head in the other direction. Castiel could only see the sharp angle of his cheekbone now, his neck wonderfully exposed under his gorgeous jawline. Castiel leant over and placed the lightest of kisses over Dean’s pulse. Dean mumbled in his sleep, and turned his head back to where it had been so he was facing Castiel again.

 

Castiel smiled. He placed another kiss, this time on Dean’s nose. Dean's brow furrowed, and he huffed in his sleep.

 

Castiel was grinning now, and he placed a kiss on Dean’s lips. After a moment Dean reacted, his lips responding to the pressure as he awoke.

 

“Mmm,” Dean hummed happily, blinking at Castiel before rolling over to engulf him in a hug. “Mornin’.”

 

“Good morning,” Castiel said, his voice muffled from where he was pressed into Dean's chest.

 

Dean yawned and his limbs relaxed again.

 

“Dean,” Castiel said with a slight whine to his voice. “It's time to get up.”

 

“Good thing time is an illusion then isn't it?” Dean mumbled, not moving.

 

Castiel huffed against his chest.

 

“Sam’s here,” Castiel said after a moment.

 

“Kay I'm up,” Dean said, rolling off Castiel so he was free to sit up.

 

“Good,” Castiel said, and climbed out of bed to take a shower.

 

Half an hour later and they were both entering the kitchen. There were quite a few people there, helping themselves to a spread that Benny was still adding to on the table.

 

“Hey guys,” Sam greeted them, loping over with a slice of toast in his hand.

 

“Hey Sammy,” Dean said, patting his brother on the back as they headed for the table.

 

“So get this,” Sam started. “Cassie here wants to stay on with the resistance.”

 

Sam touched the arm of the girl that they'd met the day before, who had told them she'd seen Sam.

 

“Hi,” Cassie said with a little wave.

 

“Dean,” Dean said, sticking out his hand as he grabbed a piece of toast with the other.

 

“Nice to meet you properly,” Cassie said, smiling at him.

 

Then she turned to Castiel.

 

“And you are prince Castiel,” she said, extending her hand to him.

 

“Just Castiel is fine,” Castiel said. “Or Cas.”

 

Cassie nodded.

 

“I caught a glimpse of that ivy creeping back through the window after you freed us,” Cassie started. “That was you right? You're Mahai?”

 

“Yes,” Castiel replied.

 

“Awesome.” Cassie gave him a wide smile.

 

“Do you,” Sam started, looking slightly nervous but eager. “Do you think you could give me a demonstration after breakfast?”

 

“Sure if you'd like,” Castiel agreed, grabbing a slice of melon from the table.

 

“I'd very much like.” Sam nodded enthusiastically.

 

“Don't go pushing it again though, Cas,” Dean said sternly. “No more uprooting massive trees and making them crawl around, okay?”

 

“Okay.” Castiel smiled at him, enjoying Dean's concern for his wellbeing.

 

“So what happened when you were captured, Sammy?” Dean asked.

 

“Well I was I was looking into some stuff about Mahais actually,” Sam said, glancing at Castiel. “I thought I could find it in the Men of Letters outpost near the border. But it turned out that Michael’s lot had had the same idea, looks like someone gave them information. So anyway, they broke in, and I was there. There was a bit of a struggle, think I broke one of their arms.”

 

“That's my boy,” Dean said approvingly.

 

“Anyway, they won,” Sam continued. “Dragged me off to see Michael.”

 

“They took you directly to Michael?” Cassie interjected, looking surprised.

 

“Yeah he wanted to question me on what I knew about Mahais, and how their power could be transferred into other forms of energy,” Sam explained. “Anyway I didn't tell him what I knew, and that's when they sent me to Rowena. She has… methods.”

 

Sam shuddered.

 

“Did you tell her?” Castiel asked urgently.

 

Sam nodded slowly, looking forlorn.

 

“She gave me this potion,” Sam recounted, the colour draining from his face. “And I couldn't control what I was saying. I was sort of semi-conscious, but I know I didn't give her anything very useful at first, mainly just the kind of things that's found in regular books. But then I did tell her about the rumours that for the kind of enchantment she was interested in, that the Mahai would have to be blood related to the receiver. But she seemed to already know this, unsurprising really. But I fear Michael may have gotten his answer from the Men of Letters library that I was captured in, because a messenger arrived whilst I was with Rowena, and said my information was no longer needed. So I was thrown in a cell.”

 

Castiel had been staring at Sam throughout the entire telling of his capture. He clasped the back of a chair to steady himself, feeling suddenly dizzy.

 

“If Michael knows…” he started.

 

“Then it makes no difference,” Dean said firmly. “He's not getting to you.”

 

“So Michael couldn't use another Mahai?” Cassie asked.

 

“No,” Sam replied, shaking his head. “It has to be Castiel.”

 

“Which it can't be because Michael isn't getting to him,” Dean repeated, reaching out to clasp Castiel’s shoulder.

 

Castiel was grateful for the support, but was still worried.

 

“Ellen will want to hear this, Sam,” he said wearily.

 

“She already has,” Sam said. “I told her last night.”

 

Castiel nodded. He finished his melon in silence as the others chatted. Dean stayed close to his side as Cassie told them about herself. She’d decided to join the resistance because she had nothing to go back to, and for revenge. Her family had put up a fight, and been killed by Michael’s soldiers.

 

“We were helping smuggle people across the border,” Cassie explained. “Anyone who had reason to fear Michael, or just didn’t want to be a part of his regime would come to us.”

 

“So you were already kind of already part of the resistance,” Sam said, smiling kindly at her.

 

“I suppose,” Cassie agreed. “It was rewarding work, but very risky. We ended up paying the price.”

 

She looked away at these last words. Sam placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

 

“So Cas,” Sam started, turning to him to allow Cassie to wipe her eyes without feeling like they were all looking at her. “How about that demonstration, eh?”

 

“Okay,” Castiel said, grabbing a piece of toast from the stack.

 

He saw Charlie’s interest perk from where she’d been chatting to Benny.

 

“Are we gonna see some more freaky plant shit?” Charlie asked, bounding over to them.

 

“Sure,” Castiel laughed, taking a bite of his toast and turning to the door.

 

He lead them out into the garden again, and headed for the big oak.

 

“Hey I thought you weren’t going to try moving that one,” Dean scolded.

 

“I’m not going to move the whole thing, Dean,” Castiel sighed, slightly exasperated. “I’m just going to play with the branches. I like this tree.”

 

Dean didn’t look convinced, but Castiel ignored him as they reached the shadow of the tree. Castiel looked up into its branches. The sun was falling through its brown leaves and casting a dappled light upon them. He closed his eyes and reached.

 

“Ohhh,” Cassie breathed.

 

Castiel opened his eyes to see that two of the branches had coiled down to the ground to form a spiral staircase. Castiel stepped forwards and put his foot on the first step.

 

“Come on,” he said over his shoulder to the others, and he started to climb.

 

They followed him, Charlie whooping with joy as she scrambled up the stairs behind him.

 

“Hold on,” he called, once Sam, the last of them to climb up, was safely on the bottom step.

 

Then he moved the whole staircase upwards. As they got higher Castiel levelled out the steps into a flat platform. The others clung to the railing as he did this, looking slightly alarmed. Castiel lifted them up the the very top of the tree, moving other branches aside as he went, until they were above the topmost leaves.

 

“Wow,” Sam breathed, staring out across the rolling hills.

 

The wind tugged at their hair and clothes, the sun soaking their skin. Castiel breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, enjoying the fresh air. He felt a hand slip around his waist, and opened his eyes to see Dean beside him.

 

“This is incredible, Cas,” Dean said, kissing him on the cheek.

 

“Thank you,” Castiel murmured, leaning into Dean’s touch.

 

“I can see for miles!” Charlie said, leaning over the railing as far as she could go, her red hair snapping around her in the wind.

 

“Careful, Charlie,” Sam warned her, stepping up behind her as though ready to catch her.

 

“It’s okay, I’d catch her,” Castiel said. “Sam’s right though, I’d rather not risk it, Charlie.”

 

They stayed up there for a little while, until Castiel tired and brought them back to earth. Pam was waiting for them.

 

“No fair, I didn’t get a turn,” Pam said, crossing her arms and scowling.

 

“Sorry Pam,” Castiel said. “I’ll take you up next time.”

 

They returned to the house, the group chatting excitedly about what they’d just seen. Once they got inside, they found Ellen and the rest of the resistance were in the process of helping the rescued people plan their return home. Some of them would be given a lift to a nearby friend’s or train station, others would be making their own way back. A couple of people had decided to stay, including a skinny boy named Adam, who couldn’t have been older than nineteen; Tracy, a fiery girl who looked to be around the same age as Adam; and Tara, a middle aged, tough looking woman who requested a shotgun.

 

The rest of the day was spent helping organise people, many of whom were very interested in Castiel. Dean shielded him from most of their questions, for which Castiel was grateful. He didn’t want to talk about his father or his time in captivity to a bunch of strangers. He was kind though, and made sure they felt he was giving them a decent amount of his attention.

 

People left gradually, with many thanks to him and the others who had rescued and given them sanctuary. Ellen watched over the proceedings, giving out orders and delegating tasks.

 

It was in the late afternoon that a new person arrived.

 

“Castiel,” a voice said, and Castiel turned in his seat at the kitchen table, to see a woman in a grey pantsuit standing in the doorway.

 

“Naomi,” Castiel said, giving her a smile as he rose.

 

She strode over to him and clasped his hand in both of hers. Her brown hair was tinged with red, and drawn back into a severe bun at the base of her neck, and she had cold, calculating expression that wasn’t easy to warm to. But Castiel was pleased to see her.

 

“It’s so good to see you safe and well,” she said, and gestured to the door. “Would you join me?”

 

“Of course,” Castiel agreed, and followed her from the room.

 

“I came as soon as I could,” Naomi explained as they passed into the corridor. “You must understand how valuable you are to our cause, Castiel.”

 

“So your letter intimated.” Castiel nodded. “Although, my apologies, I don’t really understand why.”

 

“You are the heir to the throne,” Naomi said, as though it were obvious.

 

She turned the handle to the library, and held the door open for him. He passed her, looking stunned and confused.

 

The library was a large room with a high ceiling. Rows of books lined the walls in mahogany cases, a ladder on wheels attached to them for reaching the higher shelves. A balcony ran around the circumference of the room, with a second layer of book shelves above it, a spiral staircase leading up to it in the far corner. A large window looked out onto the sweeping lawns, which were now bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon.

 

“But I don’t want to be king,” Castiel said, turning to see Naomi closing the door behind them.

 

“Perhaps not at the moment,” Naomi agreed, turning and clasping her hands behind her back. “The idea can seem overwhelming, but I have no doubt that once you’ve gotten used to it—”

 

“I don’t want to be king,” Castiel repeated firmly.

 

Naomi pressed her lips into a thin line. Then she gestured to the armchairs in front of the fire.

 

“Even so,” Naomi continued as they crossed to the chairs and sat down. “You will still be a symbol of hope for many. I hope you will take on the responsibility eagerly.”

 

Castiel remained silent as they gazed at each other. The fire crackled in the hearth.

 

“I was hoping,” Naomi continued after a moment. “That you’d agree to talk at the headquarters of the resistance.”

 

“And say what?” Castiel asked, keeping his expression carefully blank.

 

“Mainly just give them words of encouragement,” Naomi replied. “Step into the role of leader that they imagine you being. You can of course relinquish your title once the war is won, give your power over to a governing body. But in the meantime…”

 

“So lie,” Castiel said, his tone neutral.

 

“Not exactly,” Naomi said calmly, folding her hands together. “I prefer to see it as giving people hope.”

 

“It’s still lying if I am taking on a role in leadership,” Castiel pointed out. “I won’t give them the illusion that I intend to be king, Naomi.”

 

They stared each other down. Neither of them betrayed any emotion, but Castiel was good at spotting people’s small tells, and he could see that Naomi’s lips had thinned slightly.

 

“Perhaps you would be more inclined to do so if there were benefits for you and Dean,” Naomi said. “I hear that you two are an item.”

 

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked, dread curling in his stomach.

 

“Well Dean is a servant to the government of Nehrin as a hunter,” Naomi continued. “I suspect that if Ellen called for it, he would have to be sent away. Perhaps indefinitely.”

 

Castiel stood, Naomi followed.

 

“If you threaten mine and Dean’s relationship again I will make sure to tear your career in the resistance to shreds,” Castiel hissed.

 

“Oh really?” Naomi returned, practically nose to nose with Castiel. “And what makes you think you can?”

 

“My weight as a leader, as you’ve so clearly laid out,” Castiel returned. “If I sense even the slightest manipulation of mine and Dean’s relationship I will break everything you’ve built for yourself, I will take up that mantle of leader and I will tear you apart before stepping down and giving the power over to the government. Don’t test me, Naomi, I am not one to be trifled with.”

 

“Neither am I, Castiel,” Naomi said, her voice dangerously low. “Neither am I.”

 

The door burst open. Dean came in, spotted Naomi and Castiel inches apart from each other and both looking furious.

 

“Uh, sorry,” Dean said, pausing with his hand still on the door knob.

 

“Don’t be,” Castiel said. “Naomi was just leaving.”

 

Naomi threw him a look dirty enough to stain the air between them, and turned on her heel. She marched from the room, Dean hurrying to step out of her way.

 

“What was that about?” Dean asked, closing the door behind Naomi and crossing to Castiel.

 

“My role in the resistance,” Castiel said, sinking back into the armchair and putting a hand over his face. “She wants me to pretend to be a leader, to lie to people about my intentions to become king. I told her no, so she threatened sending you away.”

 

“She can’t,” Dean said, looking horrified as he sat down.

 

“She said you serve your government in your role as hunter,” Castiel explained. “She wanted to use that to send you off on missions that would take you away from me.”

 

“I’d quit,” Dean said firmly.

 

Castiel smiled weakly at him.

 

“That’s sweet, Dean,” Castiel sighed. “But I’m sure she’d find a way to manipulate the situation anyway. But I don’t think she will. I threatened her in return and I don’t think she’ll dare touch us.”

 

“What did you threaten her with?” Dean asked, looking impressed.

 

“To tear apart her career in the resistance,” Castiel replied. “I have no doubt she has plans for a high position within the government if we defeat Michael. I said I’d take on the role as leader purely to strip her of power before relinquishing my role.”

 

Dean nodded, and let Castiel sit in silent reflection for a while.

 

“Thank you,” he said eventually.

 

“For what?” Castiel asked, surprised.

 

“For standing up for us,” Dean said, smiling warmly at him.

 

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel said. “I don’t want to lose you.”

 

Dean beamed at him, and Castiel felt that swelling in his chest again. He looked away quickly. He wasn’t sure how Dean felt about him, but he knew that Dean couldn’t possibly feel the same way about him as Castiel felt about Dean.

 

“I feel as though we could end up fighting even if we defeat Michael,” Castiel sighed.

 

He stared into the fire, watching it lick hungrily at the logs. Then he felt Dean’s hand on his wrist. Castiel looked up. Dean pulled him up, and sat where Castiel had been sitting, before pulling Castiel back down to sit sideways on his lap.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean said, rubbing circles on his back as Castiel leaned into his embrace. “I’m not going anywhere, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me as I’ve rather taken a liking to you. We’ll figure the other stuff out as we go.”

 

Castiel grinned and gave Dean a peck on the lips.

 

Just then, the door burst open for a second time.

 

“Books!” Sam cried, looking thrilled to see that the library was still there since his last visit.

 

Then he spotted Dean and Castiel.

 

“Oh whoops,” Sam said, blushing slightly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

 

“S’alright Sammy,” Dean said as he and Castiel got to their feet. “I’m hungry anyway.”

 

He and Castiel left Sam to plunge happily into his books and made their way to the kitchen. There they met Benny and Tracy preparing a ham on the table.

 

“Looks like it’s gonna be good,” Dean said, coming over to inspect the ham. “Anything for me in the meantime?”

 

“There’s leftover pie in the fridge, brother,” Benny said, gesturing before returning to slicing diamond shaped cuts in the thin layer of fat covering the ham.

 

Tracy was poking cloves into the centre of the diamonds as Benny made them. Her long dark hair was tied up into a high ponytail, her tanned skin giving her a healthy look even though she was still underweight from captivity. She smiled at Castiel and offered him a handful of cloves.

 

“Want to join?” she asked.

 

“No I think the two of you have got it covered,” Castiel said, returning her smile.

 

Dean returned with a blackberry and apple pie, chewing happily.

 

“Dean you’ve got…” Benny started, and reached up to wipe crumbs off Dean’s lips.

 

Castiel froze, staring at Benny. He couldn’t believe that Benny had touched Dean’s lips so brazenly in front of Castiel. Dean glanced at Castiel and saw his thunderous expression.

 

“Uh, me and Cas are gonna go find Charlie,” Dean said quickly, rounding the table and abandoning the pie to grab Castiel’s wrist, who was still staring daggers at Benny. “See ya.”

 

He dragged Castiel from the room. Once they were in the corridor and the door behind them was closed Castiel shook free of his grasp.

 

“How dare he?” Castiel burst out, his voice sounding oddly shrill.

 

“Keep your voice down.” Dean winced, pulling him further up the corridor.

 

“No I will not keep my voice down, thank you very much,” Castiel snapped, his hands balling into fists. “Who does he think he is, touching your lips, and your chin, and your arm?”

 

“What?” Dean asked, confused. “Oh right, out in the garden.”

 

“Yes out in the garden,” Castiel hissed as they turned into another corridor. “He can’t just go around hitting on guys that are already taken. Stupid southern git.”

 

“I know, I know, Cas,” Dean said desperately, his voice imploring. “You’ve got to understand, I don’t think Benny would act on any of it. It’s just harmless flirting to him.”

 

“Harmless flirting,” Castiel repeated, indignant. “He touched your lips Dean, just went and put his fingers right on your lips whilst I was standing there like some kind of moron. I should punch him.”

 

Dean pushed a door open on their right, and a little snug was revealed. There were cosy little cushioned alcoves, antique maps decorating the mahogany walls, a rich rug taking up most of the floor, and a wood burning stove crackling happily. Dean closed the door and turned to him.

 

“Benny lost someone a while back,” Dean sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, looking tired. “Andrea. She was the love of his life, and then she died. For a while he was just… well he went into a sort of hole. And then when he came out of it he was different. More flirty and playful. I think he just does it to make himself feel better, cos’ I’ve never actually seen him take anyone home. It doesn’t mean anything, Cas, honestly.”

 

Castiel struggled with his anger, trying to hold onto it. But it was very difficult in the face of Benny’s loss. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

“Well does he have to do it with you?” Castiel asked, exasperated. “He knows you’re with me.”

 

“I know,” Dean sighed, coming forward to wrap his arms around Castiel’s waist and pecking him on the nose. “I’ll talk to him, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Castiel grumbled, feeling a lot better.

 

They went over to one of the little alcoves. Castiel sat down whilst Dean opened the little door of the wood burner and threw another log in, before joining Castiel in the alcove. They snuggled in, looking out of the window in the opposite wall. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, brilliant pink clouds painting broad brushstrokes against the blue of the sky.

 

Castiel was tucked under Dean’s arm, his gaze unfocused as he stared out of the window. He wondered how it was that life had suddenly decided to throw so many things at him. Many of them good, but some of them confusing and difficult.

 

Dean nuzzled into his neck, making Castiel giggle and squirm. When the smell of cooking ham became too strong to ignore, Castiel agreed to return to the kitchen. He pointedly ignored Benny once there, not bothering to thank him for the dinner. He made a fuss of Tracy though, telling her the ham smelt delicious. Dean raised his eyebrows at this, but didn’t say anything.

 

They ate in the dining room, as there were so many of them now. It had always been a bit of a squeeze in the kitchen, but not everyone ate at the same time. Tonight however they were all there.

 

The dining room was understated but still grand, all mahogany and red cushions. Castiel preferred its style to the gaudiness of the ballroom, finding it more cosy with the soft lighting a dark colours. And it wasn’t only a ham that Benny and Tracy had prepared, but also two chicken and mountains of roast vegetables sat on the elegant serving dishes.

 

The room was filled with their chatter. Ellen laughed along with the rest of them, her severe demeanour apparently only for official business. Castiel saw Naomi watching him out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored her. Dean, Sam, Jo and Charlie all set each other off into fits of laughter with their jokes. Meg also had a quick wit, but she refrained from getting involved with the majority of the conversation. Castiel found himself and Dean the subject of many jokes, but although he could feel his face flushing, he simply smiled and laughed along, enjoying having people to laugh with for a change.

 

When they were finished, they were all sleepy from food and wine. Castiel helped tidy up, before being shooed away by Dorothy who just winked at him. Castiel was confused, until he turned around and saw Dean with his hand extended.

 

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Dean said as Castiel took his hand. “I’d very much like to whisk you away right now.”

 

“Whisk on,” Castiel laughed and kissed him, their mouths stained red from wine.

  
As Dean lead him out of the dining room Castiel knew he’d made up his mind. He wanted Dean. He wanted all of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: I'm going on holiday tomorrow for a week and I'm not sure if the place I'm staying in has wifi. Hopefully it does and I'll be posting as usual, but if it doesn't this fic is still running, it'll just be updated in a week's time.  
> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments and kudos, I have so much love for you guys! You make this fic worth writing :)


	15. Chapter 15

Castiel let Dean lead him up the stairs, silent as Dean chatted away.

“Hey,” Dean said softly, bumping his shoulder against Castiel’s. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Castiel lied, not yet ready to tell Dean what he’d decided.

Dean narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but didn’t push the subject. They reached their room and Dean pushed the door open. As they pulled off their shoes it started to rain outside. Castiel went to the window as Dean clicked on the lamp on the side table, giving the room a soft, muted glow.

It was dark outside, but Castiel could see the raindrops as they fell on the glass, illuminated by the light of the room. He felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist and leaned back into Dean’s embrace.

“Hey,” Dean murmured, giving his ear a little nip.

“Hey,” Castiel returned, closing his eyes as Dean’s warmth engulfed him. It was amazing how the presence of one man made everything else feel completely insignificant.

Dean kissed a trail up Castiel’s neck and Castiel let his head fall back with a contented little hum. Then he span around in Dean’s arms and kissed him, cupping his cheeks as he pressed their lips together.

“Dean,” Castiel whispered against his lips. “I want you.”

Dean moved back slightly, his eyes searching Castiel’s face.

“I want all of you,” Castiel said, smiling softly at him.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked, his eyes flicking over Castiel’s face for any sign of doubt.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “I want you inside me, Dean.”

Dean groaned and kissed Castiel desperately. Then he started moving them backwards towards the bed. Dean’s knees hit the edge of the bed and he sat down, Castiel standing between his legs. Dean kissed Castiel’s stomach over the plaid shirt that Castiel had borrowed from him.

“Hm, you’re cute in my clothes,” Dean hummed, his nose wrinkling as he smiled.

Castiel smiled down at him and ran his hands through his hair. Then he took his chin and knocked it up. He bent and kissed him. Dean’s hands smoothed up over Castiel’s hips and under his shirt. Castiel let him pull it off over his head, not bothering to undo the buttons. Dean laid a soft kiss on each of his hipbones before undoing his jeans. He pushed them down and Castiel stepped out of them.

Castiel drew Dean’s shirt off over his head, throwing it to join his on the floor. Dean glowed in the soft light of the room. His green eyes were hooded with lust, his pink lips slightly parted, his shoulders dusted with freckles. Castiel had a sudden urge to taste those freckles. He leant and latched his mouth onto Dean’s shoulder.

“Your freckles taste nice,” Castiel mumbled against Dean’s shoulder.

Dean laughed and grabbed him around the waist. He flipped him onto his back on the bed. Dean smiled down at him, and Castiel’s breath caught in his throat as he was struck by just how beautiful Dean was.

“You’re such an odd little creature,” Dean said fondly, and kissed him on the nose.

Castiel moved back up the bed to place his head on the pillow. Dean crawled after him. He nipped at Castiel’s hipbone as he pulled his boxers down. Castiel bit his lip as he was exposed. Dean tossed his boxers to one side, and licked along Castiel’s shaft, making him shudder. Then he reached over and tugged the drawer in the bedside table open.

Castiel hummed eagerly as Dean drew out the bottle of lube. Dean uncorked the bottle and spread some on his fingers. Then he took Castiel's cock in his hand. Castiel groaned as Dean rubbed him, using his precum to slick over his cock. Then he lowered his head and licked Castiel’s tip. Castiel gasped, and Dean chose that moment to push a finger inside him.

“Fuck,” Castiel moaned as Dean hit that spot inside him.

Dean sucked at his cock, flicking his tongue over the head as he came up, before plunging Castiel deep into his throat. Then Dean slid a second finger in. Castiel whimpered and clutched the pillow.

Dean worked him slow, and Castiel felt his fingers scissoring inside him. His back arched as Dean repeatedly brushed that spot inside him. He looked down and saw Dean watching him with lust clouded eyes. The sight drove him to the edge.

“Dean,” Castiel gasped. “Dean I want you now.”

Dean drew his fingers and hand away, and Castiel felt oddly empty. Dean grabbed the bottle of lube again and used it to spread some on his erection. He watched Castiel as he did this, his cheeks flushed and his hair mused.

Then Dean crawled forwards. He pressed his lips to Castiel’s, and one of Castiel’s hands came up to tangle in his hair.

Dean gently pushed his legs further apart, and touched his tip to Castiel’s entrance.

“I—” Dean started, something in his eyes as he stared into Castiel’s.

But he cut himself off, and kissed Castiel instead, moving into him at the same time. Castiel hands flew to Dean’s shoulders, his fingers digging in slightly. Dean moved back to search Castiel’s face.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked, concern in his gaze.

“Yes,” Castiel gasped. “I just need a moment.”

Dean was big, and having him inside him was not completely comfortable yet. Castiel readjusted his hips slightly, making Dean's mouth fall open as he moved.

“Okay,” Castiel murmured, and Dean started to move.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean groaned as he slid slowly in and out of him.

His forehead was pinched, breathing jagged as he thrust in and out. Castiel liked the pressure of him holding his legs apart, and was starting to enjoy the stretch his of his cock inside him.

“Dean!” Castiel gasped, as Dean angled his hips just right. “Oh god right there!”

Dean sped up slightly, and Castiel gripped his shoulders harder.

“Cas,” Dean panted. “Cas you're so tight. Fuck.”

Castiel arched his back, forcing Dean deeper in. Dean’s eyes went wide and his arms shook slightly. Castiel pulled him down and kissed him sloppily, their breathing jagged and their cheeks flushed.

“Dean,” Cas gasped, pushing him away slightly. “Take me from behind.”

Dean groaned and slid out of Castiel. He flipped him over and pulled his hips up slightly. Then he slid back into him. Castiel let out a choked cry, gripping the duvet as Dean’s cock stretched him, filled him, pushed him to the edge.

Dean leant over him, kissing the base of his neck as he thrust in and out of Castiel. His hands found Castiel’s and their fingers wove together.

“Dean,” Castiel whimpered. “Harder.”

Dean obliged, pumping into Castiel harder and faster. Castiel cried out as Dean’s hips slapped into him, and his cock pressed into the mattress. Dean pulled his hips up slightly and reached around to grip his cock. Castiel let out a guttural moan and bit into the pillow.

Dean set up a relentless pace, his hand gripping Castiel’s cock and his hips driving him into the bed. Castiel loved the way his whole body was rocked by Dean’s thrusts, how he could feel that Dean was close in the way he shook inside him. Dean hit that spot inside Castiel again and again, and Castiel gripped Dean’s free hand tightly in his.

“Dean, I’m— I’m close,” Castiel choked out.

“Yes, yes Cas,” Dean panted, rubbing him furiously.

Castiel came with a cry of Dean’s name, and Dean thrust a few more times before he too came with a gasp. Dean’s hips continued to rock into him as they both rode out their orgasms. Then Dean collapsed on top of him, both of them panting.

They lay there for a moment, before Dean moved carefully out of Castiel and flopped down beside him.

“How are you doing?” Dean asked, his eyes sleepy and satisfied as he rolled onto his side and stroked Castiel’s hair back from his forehead.

“A little sore, but I’m okay,” Castiel said, smiling as Dean stroked his hair. “That was amazing, thank you Dean.”

“You’re amazing,” Dean murmured, leaning to kiss him on the temple.

“I saw some sheets in the wardrobe,” Castiel said. “I’m going to get another one for the duvet.”

Castiel climbed off the bed, his limbs heavy and aching. It was a bit sore to walk but he managed, going to the wardrobe and pulling out the extra cover. Dean helped him strip and redress the duvet before they climbed under it. The rain pattered on the windows as they settled down.

“Goodnight Dean,” Castiel murmured, tucked under Dean’s arm with his head on his shoulder.

“G’night Cas,” Dean mumbled, planting a kiss on the top of his head.

Castiel smiled and let himself sink into sleep.

* * *

BANG

Castiel shot straight up in bed, Dean scrambling out from under the duvet next to him. It was still dark outside.

“What was that?” Castiel asked, hurrying to get out of bed too.

He clicked on the side table light and grabbed his clothes. Dean was already dressed. He grabbed his gun and wrenched the door open.

“Cas, grab our stuff and pack it as quickly as you can. I want you to stay here,” Dean said, before he ducked out into the corridor.

Castiel started grabbing their things, stuffing it into their packs as quickly as he could. He pulled on his boots last and shouldered both packs. Then he followed Dean. Because he certainly wasn't going to stay in the room.

He could hear shouts coming from somewhere ahead and, he realised with a jolt, gunshots. Castiel hurried towards the source of the noise.

He turned into a corridor to see Dean, Sam, and Jo crouched at the end of it, their guns drawn and firing at something around the corner. Castiel hurried to them and crouched next to Dean.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice quavering.

“They found us,” Dean said, firing a shot off around the corner.

Castiel felt as though the floor was falling away beneath him. He felt slightly dizzy as he gripped Dean’s arm.

“How many?” he asked.

“A lot,” Dean replied, reloading his magazine.

There was a scream from downstairs.

“Mum!” Jo wailed, and went to stand.

Dean grabbed her and pulled her back down.

“You’ll be shot before you can get to her,” he hissed.

Castiel closed his eyes. The sound of glass shattering reached them. He twisted the ivy he’d grabbed from the walls of the house, lashing it at those he could see in the corridor beyond. He felt it connect with them, and wound it around as many of them as he could, dragging them backwards towards the window. He could feel them struggling against the plant, but it was strong. Castiel pulled them out of the window and, after a moment's hesitation, he dropped them. He didn’t think the fall would kill them, but it should put them out of action.

Dean peaked around the corner.

“Clear,” he said, before rounding the corner and running up it.

The other three followed. The stained glass window with the Talbot coat of arms that had stood above the stairs had been smashed. Their shoes crunched over the broken glass. A shot splintered the wood over Dean’s head and he ducked out of the way. There were more of them in the entrance hall.

Castiel lashed out with the ivy again. It flew through the window over their heads. He peaked around the banister post he was hiding behind and saw it whip out at the figures dressed in black in the entrance hall. They wore the helmets and balaclavas of Michael’s soldiers. There were so many of them.

Castiel gripped his teeth and stretched. There was a creaking noise, loud as gunshots, and the ground shook slightly.

“What was that?” Jo asked, breathless.

“Me,” Castiel said.

A moment later and a huge willow tree was ducking through the front doors. It was lucky they were so large because otherwise the tree couldn’t have fit. The soldiers scattered. But Castiel lashed out with the thin branches, tripping them or reeling them back in.

Jo took the opportunity to flee down the stairs, calling her mother’s name. Castiel struck a soldier who’d just aimed at her with one of the branches.

“Shit,” Dean hissed, and tore after her.

Sam and Castiel followed, Castiel holding onto Sam’s arm for support as he held the connection with the tree. It was whipping its branches violently, catching soldiers or knocking them flying. He could feel its strength coursing through him, funnelled his fury and fear into it.

It was difficult to see in the gloom and Castiel had to be careful not to hit anyone on their side. But by the look of it, he and Sam were the only ones left in the hallway.

Castiel tied up the soldiers he’d caught in the thin willow branches, before snapping them and leaving them there. Then he broke the connection with the tree, leaving it motionless in the hall.

Sam supported him as they hurried in the direction Dean and Jo had gone. There were more shots being fired from where they were headed, and Castiel felt his stomach clench in fear. What if Dean got hurt?

Castiel pushed the thought from his mind, focusing on keeping moving. It was a good thing Sam was paying attention, as at that moment a black clad figure stepped into the corridor.

Sam let off a shot, and the figure crumpled. They carried on, passing the downed soldier.

The shots seemed to be coming from the ballroom. They hurried towards it. A moment later and they saw Dean, Jo, Ellen, Inias, and Meg with their backs to the walls either side of the door to the ballroom.

“They’re trying to come in the back way,” Ellen said as he and Sam arrived. “Castiel, can you do anything?”

Castiel didn’t think he could summon another tree, but he reached out with the vines. He felt them connect with a few of the soldiers, and strained to hold them.

There was suddenly an earth shattering bang, and everything went white. Castiel blinked around, surprised to find himself on his back. His ears were ringing and all he could see were clouds of dust. Then a figure emerged out of the fog. Dean, covered head to toe in dust and looking frantic, hurried towards him.

“Cas,” Dean croaked, falling to his knees beside him and pushing the rubble from on top of him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Castiel coughed out.

His ribs and head were aching, and he felt as though he might’ve sprained his ankle, but he was otherwise okay. He reached up and touched the back of his head. His hand came away wet with blood.

“We’ll patch you up, don’t worry,” Dean said, his voice shaking as he helped Castiel to his feet.

Sam appeared at his side, coughing and spluttering.

“What the hell was that?” Sam asked, his eyes watering and also covered head to toe in dust.

“No idea,” Dean said, looking around as the dust cleared.

They saw three figures kneeling a little way off. They hurried towards them. Jo, Meg and Ellen appeared through the fog, kneeling over the body of Inias. Castiel gasped.

Inias’ eyes were open and completely blank, staring up at the ceiling, his expression slack.

“No,” Castiel breathed, staring down at Inias.

A volley of shots fired around them, and they all ducked and hurried to cover. Castiel looked over his shoulder at the body of Inias, hating that they had to leave him there alone.

“We need a way out,” Ellen said as they ran.

“The south corridor,” Meg said as they skidded into the dining room.

“No,” Castiel said as they headed for the door at the other end of the room. “The window. Bar the doors.”

They obeyed, and Castiel crossed to the window. He wrenched it open and climbed out. Jo was next, then Ellen, then Sam. Dean hesitated.

“Dean we have to go,” Castiel said desperately as someone launched themselves at the dining room door.

“I can’t leave Pam and Benny,” Dean said.

“They got out,” Ellen said. “Come on, Dean, move!”

Dean clambered out of the window after them. Castiel could see now that the house had caught fire on the upper floor.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked Ellen as they set off in a run.

“Yes! Just run!” Ellen shouted, and they fled across the lawn to the cover of the trees.

There was a flash of light, and something hot grazed Castiel’s cheek. He turned.

Rowena, lit by the flames of the house was gliding towards them, her dark cloak billowing out behind her.

Castiel struck out. A root, as thick as his body, rose from the ground and struck at Rowena. He could feel blood flowing from his nose but he ignored it. Rowena slashed through the root with a well placed hex, and half of it fell useless to the ground.

“Give it up, Castiel,” Rowena called. “Just come on home like a good little boy.”

She aimed another lightning flash at him, but he dodged it, tearing another root up from the ground. Rowena was forced to focus on that one, and when she did, Castiel pulled the lawn out from under her.

She fell with a cry, and Castiel struck out with the root. She rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow.

Then she screamed something, and everything went black.

* * *

Castiel became aware of someone’s hands on his face. He groaned, his whole body aching. The hands paused where they’d been stroking his face.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice said, etched through with worry.

Castiel opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times. Dean came into view, his face upside down, and Castiel realised he was laying with his head in Dean’s lap. A canopy of leaves spread out behind Dean’s head, a very dim light hinting at dawn.

“What happened?” Castiel asked, his voice groggy.

“Rowena hit you with something,” Dean explained. “Knocked you out cold. I thought…”

Castiel only had to look at Dean’s expression to know what he’d thought. Dean swallowed.

“Then Benny and Pam showed up, hit her with everything we had, and she fled,” Dean finished. “We saw some of our lot running into the woods but we don’t know where everyone is. We just have to hope they got out okay.”

Castiel sat up very slowly, taking in the surrounding area. The trees swam slightly in front of his eyes.

They were in a forest, the grey twlight of dawn revealing the faces of Sam, Benny, Jo, Pam, Ellen, and Meg, all looking at him with worried expressions. He was a little damp from lying on the ground.

“What’s the plan?” Castiel asked, rubbing his head. He felt like someone had slammed it repeatedly into a brick wall

“Get to the nearest outpost,” Ellen said, her expression hardened into her leader mask. “It’s only a day’s walk from here. We should get there late tonight. We won’t be completely safe from attack until we get across the border, but we can regroup at the outpost, possibly get access to a car.”

Charlie looked forlorn at the reminder of the loss of her car.

“Okay,” Castiel said, although the prospect of walking when his body felt as tender as his head was slightly sickening.

“I can’t believe we managed to bring our packs,” Dean said as he shouldered both his and Castiel’s and helped Castiel get to his feet.

Castiel wobbled, but Dean caught him.

“Here.” Sam took the packs so Dean could support Castiel properly.

“Okay let’s go,” Ellen said, before turning and starting off.

The rest of them followed. Dean kept his arm around Castiel’s waist, practically carrying him. After a while, both of them were clearly tiring, so Sam came and supported Castiel from the other side.

“Thanks,” Castiel whispered, feeling bad that he was such a burden. But his whole body still ached from whatever Rowena had hit him with, and he felt very weak.

The sky had brightened through the canopy, but it was an overcast day. They trekked on relentlessly, only stopping once. The trees didn’t let up, the forest clearly large. They found a stream at one point, and stopped to filter the water, Benny dropping a couple of axa leaves into it to purify it.

It started to rain around midday, and they trudged on, Jo still in her pyjama top, Sam’s jacket over her head as he walked in his sweater.

After hours, Castiel stumbled, and Dean only just caught him before he hit the floor.

“S-sorry,” Castiel said, clutching Dean as they both sank to the floor. He shook violently in Dean’s arms.

“He’s weak,” Dean said to Ellen, who had stopped to see what had happened. “He can’t carry on like this.” Castiel could hear the fear in Dean’s voice, and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

Ellen pursed her lips, considering Castiel.

“I’m fine,” Castiel said, and tried to stand unsuccessfully, falling back and shaking worse than ever.

“Well we’ve made good progress,” Ellen said. “I doubt they’d catch up if we stopped for a while. Meg, Benny, go and forage as much as you can, we need to get Castiel fed. Sam, Jo, collect firewood. Dean you stay and look after Castiel.”

The others obeyed, and Dean got up to draw a waxed sheet out his bag.

“Thought this would come in handy,” he said, laying it out on the wet ground for them to sit on.

Dean drew Castiel between his legs to lean on his chest. Ellen had disappeared off to help the others with their tasks.

Dean rubbed soothing circles on Castiel’s back as Castiel closed his eyes and laid his head on Dean’s shoulder, exhausted.

“You’ll feel better after having something to eat,” Dean said, lacing their fingers together.

“I can’t stop thinking about Inias,” Castiel said.

“He was brave,” Dean murmured, and gave Castiel a little squeeze.

“Yes,” Castiel agreed. “He was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have Internet my dudes!


	16. Chapter 16

After Castiel had eaten the nuts, berries and mushrooms he did feel better. Ellen gave him half an hour to rest, and then she made him chew on some jerrin stalk to give him an energy boost. The jerrin made him jittery and on edge, and had the horrible effect of making his body feel very awake but his mind still exhausted.

He still leaned heavily on Dean as they walked, but he had more strength now. However by the time night had fallen Castiel was struggling again. Sam returned to his side, and he and Dean propped him up as best they could. They continued to walk through the darkness, the trees showing no sign of thinning.

It was when they spotted lights through the trees that Castiel collapsed. The lights were tilting, growing hazy and extra bright. Then everything went dark for a while.

He gradually became aware of someone carrying him. Castiel blinked around blearily and saw Dean was carrying him under a stone archway. Then everything returned to black.

* * *

“What the hell did she hit him with?”

“I don’t know but I’m freaking out, Sammy. What if it’s done permanent damage?”

“I’m sure it hasn’t, Dean, I just need to do more research. And Meg’s got access to Bobby’s books now, and you know how she’s got a knack for finding stuff about dark magic.”

“Mmm…”

“I know you don’t trust her, Dean, but she is good at what she does.”

“Perhaps… Agh I just feel so useless, I wish there was something I could do.... He looks so pale.”

“C’mon, come downstairs and have something to eat.”

“No I want to stay with him.”

“Okay well then I’ll bring you up something. Just promise me that you’ll get some rest after you’ve eaten?”

“Okay, I will.”

* * *

When Castiel blinked around there was daylight falling through windows into an unfamiliar room. The sound of rain pattering on the glass filled the air with its static. He sat up, his head throbbing, and saw Dean fast asleep in a chair at his bedside. Castiel smiled fondly. Dean had fallen asleep with his arms leant on the edge of Castiel’s bed, his head resting on them. His hand lay inches away from where Castiel’s had been, as though Dean had fallen asleep holding his hand. Castiel carefully took the throw from the foot of his bed and lay it over Dean. Dean snuffled slightly, his forehead pinching, before he relaxed back into sleep.

Castiel watched his slow breathing for a while, a gentle smile on his face as he looked at the man he loved. Then he took in the room. It was simplistic, with two single beds which had been pushed together, no doubt by Dean. He was facing a window, through which he could see a courtyard and heavy rainfall.

Castiel climbed out of bed, careful not to jostle Dean or make any noise. Someone, probably Dean, had undressed him. He grabbed some clothes and his toothbrush out of his pack and dressed. Then he crept out into the hallway, closing the door gently behind him. The corridor was sparse and reminded him of an old school. It had dark stained floors and plain white walls with high ceilings. Castiel found a small, clinically clean bathroom and had a quick wash, before pocketing his toothbrush and going to explore.

The building was massive, and he wandered around much of it without seeing anyone. It was more than a little eery. Then he spotted a man at the end of one of the corridors, Castiel hurried to catch up to him, almost collapsing again from the effort.

“Hey!” Castiel called.

The man turned. He was tall and gangly with dark hair.

“Hey do you know where everyone is?” Castiel asked, catching up to the man.

“Yeah, man, they’re just down in the food hall,” the man said. “Hey you look familiar. Have we met before?”

“No,” Castiel said shortly. “Where’s the food hall?”

“Just go down those stairs there and turn right at the bottom. You’ll find it.”

“Thanks,” Castiel said, and hurried off.

By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs he was feeling lightheaded, and wished he’d woken Dean to accompany him. He turned right and headed down the corridor.

The food hall was noisy, double doors leading into a hall that enforced the sense of this building being a school. Long tables had been set up, with one at the head with many pots of steaming food on them. Castiel went for the head table, ravenous.

When he reached it he saw that Benny had slipped into chef mode and was helping serve up.

“Hey, Castiel,” Benny said, his smooth accent standing out amongst the chatter. “How’re you feeling, brother?”

“Fine,” Castiel said stiffly, grabbing a plate.

He was just turning to serve himself food, when the plate slipped from his hands. There was a crash and lots of people were suddenly looking at him. But their faces were swimming, tilting.

Strong arms caught him as the room went sideways.

“Easy now, I’ve got you,” Benny’s distinctive voice said, and Castiel felt himself being lifted under the arms.

He stumbled along with the help of Benny, and blurrily saw Jo run forwards and grab his other arm.

“God, what happened?” Jo asked Benny.

“Dunno, one minute he was standing there, next minute he’d buckled. I barely caught him,” Benny said.

They hauled Castiel up the hall, Sam coming to take over from Jo. She hovered around them nervously.

“Sorry,” Castiel mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it, Cas,” Sam said. “Let’s just get you upstairs. Jo would you fetch him something to eat and drink and bring it up to his room?”

Jo nodded and turned to go back to the food hall.

They met Dean halfway up the upstairs corridor. He looked frantic and ran forwards to relieve Benny of Castiel.

“Freakin’ hell, Cas, don’t do that to me,” Dean said, shrugging Castiel’s weight onto his shoulders. “I woke up and you were gone, and you’re so freakin’ weak and you scared the shit out of me.”

“S-sorry,” Castiel mumbled again.

Sam and Dean helped him back into bed, Benny hovering awkwardly by the door. Dean tugged his shoes off, smoothing Castiel’s hair back from his forehead so he could check his temperature with the back of his hand, his other hand on his own forehead.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Dean admitted with a sigh, dropping his hands.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Benny asked.

“Yes,” Dean said firmly.

“Jo’s bringing some food up.” Benny glanced over his shoulder. “I’m gonna… yeah.”

Benny turned and walked back down the corridor.

“Sam, could you find a bottle in my bag with some red liquid in it?” Castiel asked wearily, pulling the covers up to his chin. He’d started to shiver violently.

“Sure,” Sam agreed, turning and rummaging through Castiel’s pack.

He drew out the little vial of red liquid and handed it to Castiel. Castiel uncorked the vial and shot it down in one. He coughed and spluttered. The healing medicine tasted like vinegar.

“What is that?” Dean asked, eyeing the bottle suspiciously as Castiel placed it on the nightstand.

“Emoris enamour,” Castiel replied, settling down on the pillow.

“Where’d you get it?” Sam asked eagerly.

“I made it,” Castiel said, turning onto his side and pulling his knees up to his chest as he shivered.

“Nice, it’s really difficult to make,” Sam said, impressed.

“What does it do?” Dean asked, still looking doubtful.

“It’s like a medicine,” Castiel explained. “I couldn't take it yesterday because it needs forty days to mature. I don’t know if it will work against Rowena’s magic though, whatever she did was strong.”

“It will,” Dean said, with enough conviction for both of them.

“I’ll leave you guys to rest,” Sam said, heading for the door. “Castiel let me know if I can do anything to help, I’m just a few doors down.”

“Thanks Sam,” Castiel sighed, and Sam ducked out the door, closing it softly behind him.

Dean leant forward in his chair, stroking Castiel’s hair back from his face.

“Hey,” Dean said softly, giving Castiel a smile, but his forehead was pinched with concern.

“Hey,” Castiel sighed.

He freed his hand from the duvet and caught Dean’s. He kissed the inside of Dean’s wrist gently. Dean crawled onto the bed behind Castiel, and wrapped an arm around his waist. Castiel shed his jeans to get comfortable.

A short while later there was a knock on the door, and Jo poked her head around it.

“Hey, I brought you soup,” she said, coming into the room with a tray.

“Thank you,” Castiel said, and sat up in bed, the pillows propped up behind him.

Jo placed the tray on his lap, and Dean buttered the bread for him.

“How’re you feeling?” Jo asked, looking concerned.

“Sleepy,” Castiel said, taking the bread from Dean. “And still a bit dizzy and nauseous. I’ll sleep after this.”

“Good idea,” Jo said. “Well, I’m going to go back down. I can bring you up something later too if you’d like?”

“That’d be great, thanks Jo.” Castiel nodded and smiled at her before she turned and left the room.

Castiel ate slowly, enjoying the warmth of the creamy pumpkin soup. Dean played with his hair as Castiel ate. When Castiel was finished, Dean took the tray and placed it on the floor as Castiel settled back down.

Dean lay down beside him, tucking Castiel against his chest.

“Sleep now,” Dean said, and Castiel obliged.

* * *

When he woke again it was evening.

Dean was sitting up in bed beside him, a book propped open on his knees.

“Hey,” Dean said gently as Castiel rolled over to face him.

“Hey,” Castiel mumbled, tucking his cheek against Dean’s hip. “I think I feel better you know, still sleepy but not nauseous or dizzy.”

“Yeah?” Dean said, stroking his hair. “The medicine stuff must be doing its job then.”

“Looks like it,” Castiel said, and pushed himself up in bed.

Dean closed his book, and Castiel pulled him in for a kiss. Dean's lips were warm and slightly chapped. Castiel pressed into them, liking the way they slotted against his, how he could slightly feel Dean’s teeth under the soft cushion of his lips, how Dean relaxed into him, his hand falling on Castiel’s chest as he tilted Dean’s head back, how his mouth fell open with a little sigh. Castiel slipped his tongue into Dean’s mouth, feeling Dean's stomach muscles clench under the hand he had resting on Dean’s hipbone.

Castiel gripped Dean's hips and dragged him down until he was lying beneath him. Dean's breathing had gotten heavy, a little line appearing between his eyebrows as he gazed desperately up at Castiel.

“Cas—” Dean started, but Castiel hushed him gently, his mouth quirking into a lazy smile as he lay a finger on Dean’s lips.

Then Castiel started to undo the buttons of Dean's plaid shirt. Dean reached up to do the same to Castiel's, but Castiel gently pushed his hands away, giving him that lazy little smile as he ran his thumb over Dean’s bottom lip. Dean whimpered. It was music to Castiel’s ears, and he leant down to Dean’s exposed ribs and laid kisses down to his stomach.

Dean was panting for breath now, little gaspy moans escaping him as Castiel kissed and bit his hipbones.

“You're beautiful, Dean Winchester.”

The words were sighed against the skin just above Dean's waistband, making him shiver.

“Cas,” Dean said, his voice slightly choked.

“Yes?” Castiel purred, licking along the hollow of Dean’s hipbone, liking the way it made him jerk and spasm.

“Please, Cas.” Dean's voice was broken, his mouth open, brow furrowed.

“You want this?” Castiel rubbed a hand over Dean’s clothed crotch making him groan and buck his hips.

“Yes,” Dean gasped.

Castiel undid Dean’s jeans and yanked them off along with his boxers and socks. Dean was hard, his cock twitching and impatient. Castiel settled himself between his legs. He bent down.

“Cas!” Dean gasped.

Dean was thick in his mouth. Castiel slid his lips right to the base of Dean’s cock, feeling the smoothness of his shaft and the bumps of veins thick with his erection. Dean’s body trembled violently, his eyes rolling backwards as Castiel sucked back up and flicked his tongue over Dean’s head, tasting precum.

Castiel dipped back down, and Dean’s hands found his hair. He gently removed them, still sucking, and held them against the mattress by the wrists. Dean whimpered again, and Castiel hummed in approval, making Dean moan in turn.

Castiel worked him a bit longer, and then released him to climb off the bed. He retrieved the lube from Dean’s pack and turned to see Dean in a complete state on the bed, propped up on his elbows as he stared at the little bottle in Castiel's hand.

“You want?” Castiel asked, his head tilting to the side as he lifted the bottle.

Dean nodded furiously.

“Use your words, Dean,” Castiel murmured, his voice a low rumble in his chest as he approached the bed.

“I want you inside me, Cas,” Dean panted, crawling forwards to meet Castiel.

Castiel allowed him to undo his shirt and push it off, allowed him to push down his boxers, allowed him to take him into his desperate mouth. Dean moaned as Castiel let out a low growl of pleasure.

Dean blinked up at him, his cheeks flushed and his lips kiss swollen as they sucked Castiel’s cock. The wet, hot pressure of his mouth was maddening, and Castiel gently pushed him off, not wanting to cum too soon.

“Lie down,” Castiel instructed, and Dean scrambled back on the bed.

Castiel coated his fingers in the lube as he knelt back onto the bed. He climbed back between Dean’s legs, but this time his hand went between Dean’s cheeks.

Dean gave out a needy little moan as Castiel slipped a finger inside him. He quickly worked out that Dean could take two just fine, and slipped in a second, scissoring his fingers like Dean had done. Then he crooked his fingers slightly and Dean let out a cry of Castiel’s name.

“Now,” Dean gasped, his hands scrabbling to clutch Castiel's shoulders. “Now, Cas.”

Castiel crawled over Dean and pressed his mouth to his. Dean gripped his shoulders, his mouth hungry. Castiel spread more lube over his cock and lined himself up. He pushed Dean’s hair back and searched his face. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but he thought he found it in Dean's eyes.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” Castiel murmured, and pushed his hips forwards.

Dean bit his lip, wincing slightly.

“Oh god I'm sorry,” Castiel gushed, going to pull out, but Dean’s legs clamped around his hips.

“No,” he said, his voice quiet, as if he wanted to keep this little world they'd built for themselves secret. “It's okay, you're just big, baby.”

Castiel smiled. Dean had only called him baby once before. He kissed him, all the weight of his unspoken love on his lips, and he wondered if Dean tasted it.

Then he started to move. He moaned against Dean’s mouth, moving back slightly so their foreheads were pressed together, sharing gasps. Dean was tight, and he kept clenching around Castiel as he moved.

“Fuck!” Dean gasped as Castiel changed the angle of his hips. “Oh fuck right there, Cas, oh god.”

Castiel moved back to watch Dean as his fingertips dug into Castiel’s back a little. Dean’s eyes were closed, his mouth open, and his back arched. He rocked up into Castiel’s thrusts.

Castiel drew back, and then slammed back into Dean hard. Dean’s eyes flew open as a whimper escaped him.

“Fuck, oh fuck, yes,” Dean was rambling. “Cas, oh god, Cas you feel so good.”

Castiel let out a growl and gripped Dean’s shoulder from under his arm, pulling him sharply onto him again and again. Dean scrabbled at his back, his brow pinched, his expression desperate.

Castiel reached between them and gripped Dean's cock. The cry that Dean let out was nearly enough to send him over the edge. But he held on, rubbing Dean as he pumped into him, biting his lip as the pressure built.

“Cas,” Dean gasped. “Cas lay back.”

Castiel let Dean push him onto his back. And then Dean was riding him, his gorgeous torso muscles taught as he slammed himself down on Castiel’s cock, one hand in his hair and an expression hot enough to have Castiel biting his lip.

“Fucking hell, Cas, you make me such a whore,” Dean groaned as Castiel gripped his hips. “You just feel so fucking good.”

Castiel let out a throaty moan. Dean’s walls were tight around him, the friction and the weight of him on top of him maddening.

“Cas I'm close, baby I'm close,” Dean whimpered, his back arching as Castiel thrust up into him.

“Yes,” Castiel hissed, and Dean came untouched, letting out a cry that was almost a scream as his load covered both of them.

His walls clamped down on Castiel, making him cum with a gasp, his eyes eyes flying wide as his stomach muscles locked. Dean rose and fell as they rode out their orgasms.

Then he lifted himself off Castiel, and flopped to the side. They lay there for a while, panting hard, their hands intertwined.

“That was good,” Dean said breathlessly.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Castiel said, rolling over onto his side, grabbing his boxers to wipe his and Dean’s stomachs down. “Personally I loved it.”

They both climbed under the covers, Dean mumbling something about just having a quick nap, and wrapped their arms around each other. Castiel laid the softest of kisses on Dean’s collarbone. He wondered how long he could hold back from saying those three words. Sometimes he felt as though they'd tumble right out of his mouth.

But he couldn't. Castiel knew that Dean couldn't possibly feel the same way about Castiel as he did about Dean. Dean was gorgeous, funny, brave and intelligent. He couldn't possibly love Castiel. Not with all Castiel's flaws and his weaknesses. Not when he was so broken.

Castiel pressed his lips together, unseen by Dean where he was tucked against his chest. Dean chatted away happily, oblivious as Castiel’s face crumbled into misery. He murmured agreement in all the right places, refusing to give into the wave of loneliness that has suddenly engulfed him.

Dean kissed the top of Castiel's head. Castiel smiled. Then Dean sighed and settled down, his breathing gradually grew heavy. Castiel gingerly drew back from him to see his face. Dean’s eyes fluttered slightly in his sleep, his lips slightly open.

Castiel allowed himself a muted smile. Then he slipped out of Dean’s arms and got dressed.

There were more people in the corridor now, it not being time to eat. A few of them stared at Castiel, and he was glad he'd brought a jacket with a hood as he slipped it over his head.

Eventually he made it outside. The woods around the building were ablaze with the reds, yellows and oranges of leaves. Castiel crunched through the ones littering the ground, enjoying the silence of the woods. A bird swooped from one tree to the next, looking down at him with one beady eye.

After a while he reached a place where the ground fell away in a sheer drop. Castiel stood at the edge of the precipice, looking out over a brilliant vista of vibrant trees, which rolled over gentle hills. They were coated in the golden light of late afternoon, the sky having cleared to a brilliant blue.

He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. The hole in his chest, which had almost been closed by being with Dean yawned again. It was so sharp that Castiel actually had to put a hand to it.

The crunching sound of someone making their way towards him through the trees reached him. Castiel turned and after a moment, Sam appeared.

“Hey,” Sam said, coming to join him at the edge of the precipice. “Nice view.”

Castiel murmured in agreement, crossing his arms tightly over his chest as he turned back to look out over the drop.

“I saw you leaving the building,” Sam said. “I didn't think it was the best idea for you to be wandering around alone, I hope you don't mind. Although you're clearly more than capable of looking after yourself.”

“That's thoughtful, thank you,” Castiel said, not looking at Sam even though he could feel his gaze.

“You know Dean’s crazy about you, right?” Sam said out of nowhere.

Castiel turned to him in surprise, wondering if Sam could somehow read his mind.

“Sure,” he lied, but Sam only frowned at him.

“He is,” Sam insisted, and he looked out over the valley. The light breeze whipped his shoulder length hair back from his face, his brown eyes thoughtful. “I've never seen him like this about anyone. The way he looks at you…”

Sam looked back at Castiel, who was standing there staring at him, unable to hide the surprise on his face. “It's like he's seeing hope embodied, or something… he's all talk, Dean, he's actually a huge bundle of feelings.”

A smile broke across Sam’s face, and Cas saw the resemblance to his brother briefly as he looked away again.

“He's been through a lot, our parents.” Sam swallowed and looked down at his shoes, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “They died a while back. Pissed off the wrong people. Dean and I only had each other for so long. He tried with others, but it was like they couldn't fill this… hole he had in him. I think I was the only one that could truly make him feel better. But now I see him with you, and it's like you've completed him, like you've sown him back together.”

Sam looked up at him and started in surprise.

“Cas, are you alright?”

Sam started forward, seeing the tears that were flowing freely down Castiel’s face.

“He felt like he had a hole in him?” Castiel whispered.

Sam’s hand hesitated in the air between them, and then dropped back to his side.

“That's what he said,” Sam confirmed, his brow furrowed with worry.

Castiel let out a little sob, and put a hand over his eyes.

“It's okay,” Sam said, sounding completely bewildered as he came to stand beside him and placed a hand his back.

“S-sorry,” Castiel said, digging a tissue out of his pocket. “This has all just built up for a while, I'm so exhausted.”

“You don't have to explain,” Sam said, giving him a soft smile. “You've had a lot thrown at you lately, hell you've had a lot thrown at you your whole life… I never got to say, I'm deeply sorry for the loss of your parents. They're sorely missed by many of us even in Nehrin.”

“Thank you,” Castiel whispered, unable to find his voice properly.

He whipped his eyes, and gave Sam a shaky smile to let him know he was okay.

“Ready to go back? Or do you need a moment?” Sam asked.

“No I’m good,” Castiel said, wiping his eyes and pocketing the tissue.

They walked back through the trees together, Sam doing a lot of the talking to save Castiel the effort. Castiel appreciated it, and was glad that Dean had Sam in his life.

When they got inside, Sam patted him on the back and gave him a reassuring smile, before sloping off with his hands in his pockets. Castiel watched him for a moment, a small smile on his face, then he turned and headed back to his and Dean’s room.

Dean was still asleep when he got upstairs. Castiel stripped off and climbed carefully back into bed. Dean mumbled something in his sleep and pulled Castiel close to him. Castiel smiled, and allowed himself to be tucked back under Dean's chin.

When he drifted off to sleep he couldn't even feel the hole in his chest.


	17. Chapter 17

The next afternoon found Jo and Castiel standing in the courtyard. Clouds drifted across the sky, throwing the limestone courtyard alternatively into shadow and light.

“Nice!” Jo said as a can flew off the sill of one of the archways that lined the courtyard.

Castiel lowered the air rifle he'd been aiming at the can.

“You're getting better.” Jo beamed at him as Castiel smiled weakly.

“I still say I'll never use a gun so this is pointless,” Castiel sighed, reloading the gun with little metal pellets.

“Rubbish,” Jo said. “I've seen how your abilities can take it out of you if you push them too far. This is a backup plan, and one you'll need if Rowena finds us again.”

Castiel sighed and aimed at the cans in the other arches.

“Cas!” Dean’s voice rang out across the courtyard.

Castiel turned to see Dean striding towards them looking thunderstruck.

“You put up a huge fuss about me giving you a gun and you let Jo give you target practice?” Dean said as he reached them, looking outraged.

“She talked me into it,” Castiel tried to explain.

“Still!” Dean said, indignant. “I'm supposed to be the one to give you target training.”

“I'm sorry, Dean,” Castiel said, stepping forwards to place a hand on Dean’s folded arms. “I didn't realise how important it is for you.”

“Well it is,” Dean snapped, but he looked slightly happier.

“I'm just gonna shimmy on out of here,” Jo said, and turned to hurry away before Dean could lay into her too.

“Would you like to show me how's best to aim?” Castiel asked, holding up the air rifle. “We can't use proper guns obviously. Too noisy if anyone's in the woods looking for us.”

“Yeah okay,” Dean said, apparently over his temper tantrum.

Castiel turned and aimed again at one of the cans. He felt Dean’s warm chest press against his back as he placed his hands over Cas’.

“Slightly to the left,” Dean murmured, and Castiel shivered at the feeling of Dean's breath on the side of his neck. “And relax your shoulders a little.”

Dean's hands smoothed up Castiel's arms to his shoulders, pressing them down slightly. Castiel breathed in, and on the exhale he fired.

The can crumpled. Castiel grinned as it flew out of sight. He went to turn around, but Dean held him firmly by the hips.

“Good,” Dean purred in his ear, and Castiel felt his knees go slightly weak.

“It’s— it’s sort of like firing an arrow,” Castiel stuttered, very aware of Dean's crotch pressed into his ass.

“And you're good at that aren't you?” Dean murmured, giving Castiel's ear a little nip.

“Y—yes,” Castiel said, slightly breathless.

“You know what else you're good at?”

Castiel could feel the hum of Dean's low voice through his back. He shook his head.

“Making those pretty little moans as I fuck you,” Dean purred into his ear, and he pressed his hips forwards into Castiel’s ass, making him gasp. “You're so tight, baby, you feel so good around me. And you get this look, this glazed fuck me look, with your mouth open a little and your eyes all needy. And I love the little noises you make when I touch you, how you sigh my name, and how you sorta lose control of your limbs.”

Castiel whimpered, his hands slack on the air rifle as Dean’s lips brushed against his neck.

“I love making you cum,” Dean continued. “I love seeing you fall apart, feeling you clench around me, and you look at me like—”

Dean broke off, his grip on Castiel’s hips loosening slightly. Castiel turned, the rifle falling to his side.

“I look at you like what?” Castiel asked, searching Dean's face.

Dean opened his mouth and then closed it again.

“Nothing,” Dean said. “Just… like you want to fuck me.”

Castiel frowned, his head tilting slightly to the side.

“That wasn't what you were going to say,” he said.

“Does it matter?” Dean retorted, and suddenly he was backing away from Castiel, leaving him feeling cold.

Castiel subconsciously put his hand to his chest, his face falling.

“What's wrong?” Castiel asked, and he was in danger of falling again, of being swallowed by the hole.

“Nothing,” Dean said, but he wasn't looking at him. “Let's try and hit another can.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Castiel asked, rubbing his chest with his free hand.

Dean looked up at him, and at the look on Castiel's face he sagged.

“No,” Dean sighed, stepping forward and folding Castiel into his chest.

“Then what?” Castiel asked, his voice shaking slightly, Dean’s chest warm on his cheek.

“Nothing, baby,” Dean murmured, and kissed the top of his head. “Everything's fine. Let's practice yeah?”

“Okay,” Castiel mumbled, but he didn't feel okay.

He turned, fiddling with the rifle. He raised it to eye level and shot all five remaining cans one after the other.

“Cas that was incredible!” Dean exclaimed.

Castiel turned and pushed the rifle into Dean's chest, forcing him to take it.

“I'm done for today,” he said, and walked past Dean without looking at him.

“Cas…” Dean's voice trailed off, and Castiel paused, but Dean didn't say anything.

He walked from the courtyard, ducking down a few corridors and then out the other side into the forest. He walked quickly, his breathing fast. And then before he knew he was doing it, Castiel was running.

His feet pounded against the forest floor as he went. Birds startled into flight as he passed. He reached out, and a branch snatched him up from the ground. It dragged Castiel up above the canopy and released him. He landed on another branch and then he was sprinting from branch to branch, bending each one to form a path from tree to tree. The forest was a patchwork quilt of fiery colours, and he ran free over it.

When he finally stopped, Castiel slumped onto a little platform he'd created from a lattice of branches. He was breathing hard, his heart pounding, and a pair of green eyes watched him from his mind’s eye.

Castiel shook his head, trying to clear it of Dean. He lay back and gazed at the sky. The sun had just disappeared behind a cloud, cooling him nicely.

Why did Dean have this power over him? Castiel huffed out an irritated sigh. He'd managed for so long on his own, endured so much pain, and now he fell to pieces the moment Dean was slightly distant with him. He just couldn't stand the way Dean wouldn't look at him, how he wouldn't explain what he meant, when all Castiel ever wanted to do is look at Dean and tell him exactly how much he loved him.

After a while Castiel became aware of a voice calling his name. He sat up, frowning as he listened. Then he heard it again.

“Dean,” Castiel muttered, getting to his feet.

He sunk the platform to the floor, leaping from it when it was still a few feet off the ground.

“Dean!” Castiel shouted, running in the direction of the voice.

“Cas?” Dean's voice came back through the trees.

Castiel pounded back the way he'd come. After a few moments, Castiel saw him, running through the trees towards him. His cheeks were flushed, his brow creased in concern. He and Castiel ran right into each other's arms.

“Cas,” Dean sighed as he caught him.

“Hi,” Castiel said, and then he kissed him, fierce and desperate, trying to convey all his guilt and longing and pain and love.

“Cas,” Dean said again when their lips parted. His green eyes were staring into Castiel's with an intensity that Castiel had only glimpsed before now.

“I love you,” he said.

It was like being hit over the head. Castiel’s world tipped and something inside him screamed with joy. And then he was kissing Dean again, his hands in Dean's hair, no space between them as Dean gripped his back, curving him into his body. And Castiel could feel tears on his cheeks, and he was smiling into the kiss.

“I love you too,” Castiel said when they parted, breathless and feeling slightly dizzy.

Dean beamed at him, his whole face lighting up with the smile until he practically glowed.

And there it was. Completion. No loneliness, no clawing, undeniable melancholy. No hole in his chest.

Castiel let out a sob of laughter, and kissed Dean again. It was like falling. Dean's lips were a smile against his own, his hands gripping Castiel’s back as he buried his hands in Dean’s hair, forcing him closer, the kiss almost painful.

“You make me feel as though I'd forgotten how to breath,” Castiel said when their lips parted, foreheads resting against each other. “And then you came and kissed the life back into my lungs.”

“This is usually the point at which I'd make some corny joke and back out of any of this emotional stuff,” Dean confessed, his voice slightly gruff. “But somehow I don't want to. All I want to do is tell you that you complete me. I am… everything I'll ever need to be with you.”

They kissed again, but this time it was slow and soft. Dean’s mouth moulded to his, velvet soft as he moved his hands up to cradle Castiel’s jaw, tilting his head back so Castiel opened for him.

“Dean,” Castiel sighed. “Take me to bed.”

* * *

Dean filled his senses.

Earth, smoke, and sandalwood, plus something that was undeniably Dean was all Castiel could smell as Dean laid him down on the bed.

Green eyes, freckles, and kiss bruised lips were all he could see as Dean undid the buttons of his shirt, taking his time to run his fingers down Castiel’s torso.

Mint, lemon, and honey, with the overwhelming taste of skin was all he could taste as Dean kissed him, caressing Castiel’s jaw as he worked his mouth open.

Breathy, dazed sighs of his name was all Castiel could hear, as Dean ground his hips down into his with infuriatingly slow rolls.

Wet, hot, needy kisses were all Castiel could feel as Dean worked a trail down Castiel's bare chest, taking his time to suck at the hollow of his collarbone, the curve of his rib, the dip of his hipbone.

And he could see stars, feel the ocean roaring in his ears, taste the sun as Dean took him into his mouth. And Castiel was lost, his mouth slurring strings of meaningless words, his hands in Dean's hair, his back arched.

And Dean sucked, he sucked him down and he licked and he gripped his base, and Castiel couldn't stop the tremors that wracked his body. He couldn't stop the whimpering moans, or the helpless pleas for Dean to fuck him, just fuck him right now.

And then Dean’s fingers were slipping into him, and Castiel was keening, gasping against Dean’s hungry mouth. Dean watched him writhe, his green eyes clouded by lust, his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Cas,” Dean sighed, as he fucked his fingers into Castiel slow and hard.

“I'm… here,” Castiel panted as Dean rubbed against that spot inside him and his whole being fell apart. “Please, Dean.”

Dean slicked himself, his hooded eyes on Castiel as he worked his shaft. Castiel let out little mewling whimpers as he watched Dean touch himself. Dean climbed over him and kissed him. It was slow and so painfully sweet that Castiel felt tears spring to his eyes. He cupped Dean's jaw and let his tongue into his open mouth.

Dean moved back, his thumb running over Castiel's bottom lip as he gazed into his eyes, green on blue.

“I love you,” Dean murmured, and then he was inside him and Castiel was crying out.

Dean rolled his hips slowly, his forehead pressed to Castiel as their panting breaths mixed together. It was intense, deep and slow as their bodies became slick with sweat, moved together, Castiel’s feet resting on the small of Dean's back.

And then Castiel cried out. His fingers dug into Dean’s shoulder blades as Dean hit that sweet spot.

“Yes,” Castiel gasped. “Oh god, yes Dean, oh you feel so good, you fill me up so good, baby.”

Dean picked up the pace slightly, just enough to rock Castiel’s body with his as he thrust into him. And his cock filled him up, stretched him, completed him.

“More,” Castiel demanded, and Dean gripped the headboard with one hand as he slammed back into Castiel, making him release a strangled scream.

Then Dean's hips were slapping into him, fucking him into the bed, driving him to the edge. Dean’s free hand found his, their fingers interlocking as Castiel let out a string of increasingly loud moans.

Castiel came untouched. His back arched and he cried out Dean's name as he gripped the pillow. His body shook violently, and then Dean was tumbling over the edge with him, his forehead tucked against the crook of Castiel neck as he let out a choked gasp and drove his cock in deep and hard. Dean's hips continued to roll, and he moved back to gaze at Castiel as the orgasms rocked their bodies.

Dean slowed to a stop. Both of them were breathing heavily, Dean still buried to the hilt inside Castiel. He smoothed Castiel’s sweaty fringe back from his forehead.

“I love you too,” Castiel whispered, and Dean smiled.

He kissed him, their fingers interlaced on either side of Castiel’s head. Then he carefully drew out of Castiel and lay down beside him. Castiel tucked himself under Dean’s arm and pulled the duvet up over them.

“We’ll should go down soon,” Dean said, his fingertips drawing lazy circles on Castiel's back. “Ellen wants to tell us about tomorrow's plans for leaving.”

“Just a little lie down,” Castiel murmured, snuggling closer into Dean's side.

“Okay,” Dean chuckled. “We've got time.”

And Castiel thought that was the most beautiful sentence he'd ever heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at these two dorks. Thank you for all the kind comments and kudos, it means so much to me!


	18. Chapter 18

“Sneaky, conniving little arse biscuit.”

It was the next day and Jo was jabbing at a map of what Castiel recognised as a blueprint of his, now Michael’s, castle. Castiel approached the meeting room table, at which Ellen, Jo, Pam, Meg and Rachel — who he'd been immensely pleased to find out had escaped the Talbot house safely — stood looking at the blueprint. The table was in the centre of a large room with vast antique maps hung on the walls.

“You wouldn't be talking about me would you?” Dean said from beside Castiel, grinning at Jo.

“No,” Ellen said shortly, and promptly rolled up the blueprint.

“What's going on?” Castiel asked, standing very still at the edge of the table.

Ellen met his steady gaze, both of them measuring the other up.

“We have a mission,” she said after a moment. “It is of no concern to you.”

“You're planning a mission in my home,” Castiel said coolly. “I’d say it is very much my concern.”

They stared at each other, both of them refusing to be the one to look away first. Finally Ellen unrolled the blueprint, her eyes never leaving Castiel’s.

“Michael has a weapon,” Ellen started. “We don't know what it is but we know it's in Wenover Castle. From what our sources have found out, he's keeping it here.”

She pointed at a spot on the map that was blank of any detail. The lines just faded into the blank space, upon which was written “The Underneath”.

“Well then it's impenetrable,” Castiel said simply. “The Underneath cannot be broken into.”

“We have people who have been… testing that theory. So far it's proved to be impregnable, but our latest attempt got further than any other. The attempt did however leave the agent rather… unhinged.”

Ellen’s lips pressed together in a thin line. Castiel was unsurprised by this news. The Underneath had protective measures which he didn't even know about, and if Michael was keeping a weapon there Castiel was sure he'd have put more in place. He did however, know about one.

“You need me,” Castiel said.

All of them stared at him.

“Novak blood,” he explained. “Written into the architecture of The Underneath, it is one of its most effective protective measures… or it would have been if one Novak had not betrayed another.”

“The blood sigil,” Jo said, excited as she unrolled a piece of paper, a circular interlocking pattern drawn upon it.

“Exactly,” Castiel agreed. “It needs my blood to open it.”

He leant forward and dragged the piece of paper towards him.

“Here,” he said, pointing at a series of symbols. “This reads ‘Enter thee of the blood of the mother born under the serpent moon. Guard me with thine hand of stone heart and seek from me only that which the raven can answer.”

Dean snorted.

“What, pray tell, the fuck?” he said, staring around at each of them in turn. “Serpent moon? Stone heart? What's it on about?”

“My family’s ancestry,” Castiel sighed. “It refers to several historical events involving the Novak line, a lot of them are very curious indeed, but that is a conversation for another time. I can get you past the blood sigil at least.”

“He would be useful,” said Meg, her dark eyes drinking Castiel in. “His abilities are invaluable.”

“And also sought after by Michael,” Ellen said, giving Meg a sharp look. “We’d be handing Castiel right to him.”

“And how else do you plan on getting past the sigil?” Castiel asked. “It will not open for anyone who is not of the Novak line.”

Ellen stared at the piece of paper with the blood sigil upon it, clearly thinking hard.

“I think it'd be a mistake to send Castiel,” Dean spoke up.

Castiel glared at his profile, but Dean did not meet his eye.

“Of course you'd say that,” Meg sneered. “You just don't want to risk your boyfriend getting captured. But this weapon sounds far more dangerous than whatever plans Michael has for Castiel, we should send him.”

Ellen raised a hand as Dean opened his mouth again.

“I need to think on it,” Ellen said. “The information that Sam bought us suggests that Michael could very well use Castiel for ill. Jo, come.”

She turned, blueprint in hand and walked from the room, Jo following. The rest of them broke apart, Meg bumping hard into Dean's shoulder as she passed.

“Don't,” Castiel said, placing a hand on Dean's arm as he went to follow Meg.

“Why is she such a cow?” Dean seethed, glaring after Meg as they entered the corridor. “And why do we need her? Because she's a good thief? Well plenty of people can steal things, it takes more than that to be a good agent of the resistance.”

“Ellen seems to trust her,” Castiel said calmly. “And I trust Ellen's judgement. Try not to dwell on it Dean, let's go out into the woods.”

Dean continued to grumble about Meg as they made their way outside. It was a sunny day even though it was cool this late in the year. They spotted Sam playing with a large Alsatian and headed over to him.

“Hi,” Castiel said as they reached him. The dog bounded over to Castiel and jumped up. It was big enough for its paws to reach his shoulders. “And who's this?”

“This is Joey,” Sam said, looking thrilled at having found a dog to play with. “He belongs to one of the other resistance members.”

Castiel gave Joey a good scratch behind the ears, before Sam threw a ball into the trees and Joey went haring off after it.

“He's very sweet,” Castiel said.

But when he glanced at Dean he didn't look as pleased.

“What's up Dean?” Castiel asked.

“Dean doesn't like dogs,” Sam said with a grin, as Joey came galloping back over to them.

“I don't not like them,” Dean snapped. “They're just all hairy and slobbery.”

“I think he's lovely,” Castiel said, bending to pet Joey as he dropped the ball in front of Sam.

“Mmm,” Dean hummed, apparently not convinced.

“Walk?” Castiel asked him. “Not for the dog, for us.”

“Sure okay,” Dean agreed, and they left Sam playing with Joey.

The sunlight fell dappled through the vibrant leaves, painting them with spots of light as they walked. Dean's hand found Castiel's and Castiel smiled. It was nice. Walking with the man he loved, pretending that they were just two normal people enjoying the autumn sunshine.

But Castiel couldn't keep it.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” Dean smiled at him, the sunlight catching the gold in his eyes for a moment.

“Can I ask you about your parents?” Castiel asked hesitantly.

The smile fell from Dean's face. He squeezed Castiel's hand quickly.

“Yeah… yeah they deserve to be spoken about,” Dean said quietly.

He looked out into the trees as the wind sent a flurry of yellow leaves swirling around them.

“They were working against corruption in the Nehrinian government,” Dean started, his eyes faraway. “They were supposed to be undercover. Eventually they managed to get out and that looked like the end of it. But someone betrayed them. The people they'd pissed off sent people to kill them. They set our house on fire. My dad got Sam and I out and then went back for my mum. But neither of them made it out…”

The breeze tugged at their hair and clothes. Castiel never took his eyes off Dean. He gave his hand a squeeze.

“I'm so sorry, Dean,” Castiel whispered.

Dean shrugged, his eyes still far away.

“I was consumed by the desire to avenge them for a very long time,” Dean muttered. “But it doesn't help. Nothing does. Well, not nothing.”

Dean smiled at Castiel, and Castiel felt his heart swell. He leant over and kissed him, making Dean hum with happiness, his smile pressed against Castiel's.

“For a very long time I had no one,” Castiel said when their lips parted. “I felt like I had a hole in my chest and nothing could fill it. Then I escaped and met Hannah. She helped for a while, she was a very good friend to me and a wonderful person.”

He looked out into the trees. The leaves crunched under their feet.

“But it still wasn't enough,” Castiel continued. “The pain of losing my family and the loneliness I felt sometimes felt like it would smother me. But then I met you.”

He smiled at Dean, who's eyes were very bright.

“You helped me see a light in a very dark place. And then I met the people here, and it started to feel like I not only had allies, but friends. And then… and then you told me you love me… and I was complete. It's like seeing colour again when everything was grey for so long.”

Dean looked away, sniffing slightly. Castiel walked in silence, allowing him to hide his tears.

“That’s… that’s similar to how I felt,” Dean said after a moment. “I mean I had Sam so it was never quite as bleak, but it's never been as bright as it has been with you.”

Castiel stopped and pulled Dean round to face him. He buried his hands in Dean's hair as he kissed him. Dean clutched his waist. Castiel kissed him slow. Bittersweet and tender.

“I'm here,” Castiel whispered, resting his forehead against Dean's. “I'll be here for as long as you want me.”

Dean leaned back to look at him.

“I'll always want you,” he said.

Castiel felt as though they had just stepped off a cliff and were in free fall together.

“You mean that?” Castiel asked, searching Dean's eyes for any sign of doubt.

“Yes,” Dean said, and his gaze was steady.

Castiel kissed him again, tasting eternity on his tongue. The wind pushed at them, sweeping up leaves around them like confetti at a wedding. Castiel pecked little kisses on Dean's lips, smiling as he did.

“Let's head back,” he said. “Ellen may have made a decision by now.”

Dean frowned, but pressed his lips together rather than saying anything. They walked back hand in hand.

Sam was nowhere to be seen when they got back. They headed through the old building to the meeting room. When they got there they found Meg, sat with her feet on the table and tilting back on two legs of her chair.

“Hey, angel,” Meg said to Castiel, a sly smile on her face.

She gave him the creeps, but Castiel couldn't help but like her style. She didn't really fit in and seemed to enjoy that fact.

“Don't call him that,” Dean snapped, glaring at Meg as he pulled a chair out for Castiel.

“Oo Dean,” Meg cooed, eyeing the chair. “I don't think I've ever seen you so gentlemanly. You swept him off his feet, eh angel?”

Meg grinned at Castiel and let her chair fall forwards. She swept her legs off the table and leant on it with her crossed forearms instead.

“What's that pretty mouth of his like, angel?”

“Enough,” said Dean firmly, giving Meg a look so cold that the air in the room turned icy.

But Castiel couldn't help the little quirk at the corner of his mouth. Meg knew exactly what she was doing. Dean turned to him and started fussing over his jacket, helping him out of it and then messing around with his collar to get it to sit straight. Castiel let him, feeling Meg’s smirk from across the table.

A few minutes later and Sam, Jo, Rachel, Charlie, Dorothy and Pam slowly trickled in. Ellen was the last to arrive.

“Good you're already here,” Ellen said, placing herself at the head of the table as the others found themselves seats.

She waited until they were all settled before she began.

“I've decided that you should go along on the mission, Castiel,” Ellen said, giving him a piercing look. “The risk of this weapon is bigger than the risk of handing you to Michael.”

Dean looked horrified. He opened his mouth, but then thought better of it and closed it again.

“I'm glad you agree,” Castiel said, meeting Ellen's steady gaze.

“We know very little about The Underneath,” Ellen continued. “Other than it has protective barriers in place to protect whatever it holds within. We know that the weapon is not the only thing it guards, and if possible we’d like to destroy these other assets of Michael’s along the way if we can. However we must not get distracted. Finding and destroying the weapon is our first and foremost priority. Unfortunately we don't know much about the weapon either. All we know is that it can cause unspeakable damage in the area it is unleashed upon. That may mean it is large, but it may very well be small too, many of us have seen the powerful effects of smaller enchanted items, so don't let size throw you off.”

Ellen unrolled the blueprint of Michael's castle once more. She stood and pointed to a small gate on the east side of the wall surrounding the castle.

“We have an inside man who can get us in here,” she said. “You are the ones chosen to enter the castle and find the weapon. You will make your way down through the wine cellar, from which a number of corridors run for the servants to get around the castle unseen.”

“Snobs,” Dean snorted, before giving Castiel an apologetic look.

“One of them leads to The Underneath,” Ellen continued, pointing to a corridor sketched out in fine pencil lines. “You shall take it. Beyond that you're on your own. The defences are many, and you'll need your wits about you… you leave tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Castiel repeated, surprised.

“Yes,” Ellen said, turning her gaze onto him. “Anything wrong with that, Castiel?”

“No,” Castiel said quickly. “It's just so soon.”

“I will not be here when you return,” Ellen continued, keeping her eyes on Castiel for a moment more before dragging them away to survey the others. “I shall be joining Naomi in Nehrin. You shall of course have access to a car to get you to Wenover Castle. We can discuss it further later, for now I have other matters to attend to.”

She rose and everyone else followed suit.

“I need hardly express how dangerous this mission shall be,” Ellen said solemnly, looking at each of them in turn. “You're doing a great service to the resistance, and I wish you luck.”

With that, she swept out of the room. The rest of them broke apart and followed.

“Dean,” Castiel started, catching his hand. “Let's go upstairs.”

Dean raised his eyebrows at Castiel.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Castiel confirmed with a grin. “If we're heading for Michael’s castle tomorrow I'd like to get my fill of of you today."


	19. Chapter 19

Dean was laying kisses down Castiel’s spine. Castiel arched his hips down into the mattress as Dean crawled over him from behind. His lips made Castiel shudder, and he trailed his fingers up Castiel's side.

 

“You're so beautiful,” Dean breathed against the back of Castiel's neck. “Every inch of you.”

 

Castiel shuddered and rolled over. Dean's mouth met his and Castiel arched up into him. His skin was hot to the touch. He'd undressed Castiel slowly, taking his time to kiss each bit of skin he revealed, until Castiel was a shaking mess.

 

Castiel now needed Dean so badly that he was jerking and twitching, desperate for Dean's touch. But Dean was going slowly, sucking at his collarbone, licking at his ribs, biting his hipbone.

 

Castiel hummed as Dean drew off his boxers.

 

“If this is the last thing I do,” Dean murmured, gazing at Castiel's eager cock. “Then I'll die a happy man.”

 

And then he took Castiel into his mouth. Castiel gave a cry of pleasure and tangled his hands in Dean's hair. Dean's tongue worked him slow and sloppy, his mouth wet and hot. He flicked his tongue over the underside of Castiel's head repeatedly, making him jerk and moan.

 

“Dean,” Castiel gasped, tugging at his hair. “Dean stop.”

 

Dean released his cock with a wet pop and blinked up at him. Castiel moaned at the sight of his wet, pink lips inches from his erection.

 

“I don't want to cum too soon,” Castiel panted, and sat up.

 

He drew Dean up so he was kneeling up in front of him, the bulge in his boxers level with Castiel's mouth. Castiel yanked his boxers down and Dean wriggled out of them. Then he took Dean in his mouth, all the way down to the hilt.

 

Dean gasped and grabbed his shoulders. Castiel drew back, his tongue rolling over the underside of Dean's cock. He dipped his mouth forwards and backwards, enjoying the weight of Dean on his tongue and the stretch of him between his lips. Dean shuddered uncontrollably, one hand finding the back of Castiel's neck to guide him lightly. Castiel looked up as he drew back to suck the tip, and saw that Dean was watching him, his brow pinched as his eyes went from where Castiel's wet lips encircled him to meet his eyes. Dean let out a little whimper.

 

Castiel took that as his que and turned to lean over to the side table. Inside he found the little bottle of lube. He handed it to Dean.

 

“I want to watch you prepare yourself,” Castiel said, his voice a low rumble.

 

Dean let out another little whimper and uncorked the bottle. He slicked two of his fingers and handed the bottle back to Castiel. Then he crawled to the head of the bed. Castiel turned to watch him, sat beside him he kissed his bicep. Dean reached around and inserted the first finger.

 

Castiel let out a moan at the same time that Dean did. He shuffled around so he could watch as Dean's inserted a second finger. Dean's back arched and he continued to pull his fingers in and out of himself.

 

“Oh yes,” Dean moaned. “Oh Cas, I'm so ready for you. This is how I'd imagine it. I'd see you taking me roughly, fucking me until I scream. Make me your little whore.”

 

Castiel groaned and slicked some lube onto his cock, his eyes on Dean’s hand as he fucked himself. Then positioned himself in between Dean's legs.

 

“You want?” Castiel asked as Dean's hand fell away and he brushed the tip of his cock against Dean's entrance.

 

“Yes,” Dean purred, arching his back so his hole pressed against Castiel's erection. “So bad, baby, fuck me hard, I love your cock, I want it so bad, fuck me with your cock, baby.”

 

Castiel shuddered. Dean's dirty talk was certainly doing the trick, and he gripped Dean's hips as he pushed forwards.

 

“Yes!” Dean cried out, gripping the headboard as he threw his heads back. “Oh yes, fuck me with that big cock baby, oh you feel so good.”

 

Castiel let out a moan that was almost a growl and reached around to grip one of Dean's shoulders. He drew him down sharply onto his cock, making both of them groan. Then he started thrusting upwards.

 

Dean’s legs shook as he clutched the headboard, taking Castiel's hard thrusts eagerly. One hand was on Dean's hip, the other still gripping his shoulder as Castiel slammed up into him.

 

“Yes it's so fucking good, baby,” Dean slurred, meeting Castiel’s thrusts with his own.

 

Castiel laid a sloppy kiss against the base of Dean’s neck and Dean reached back to clutch his hip with one hand. The hand that had been on Dean's hip found his cock, and Castiel pumped him mercilessly.

 

Dean keened, his back arching and his walls clamping down around Castiel. Castiel gasped, his body folding involuntarily as the pressure of Dean around his cock almost sent him over the edge.

 

“Yes, baby,” Dean whimpered. “Cum for me, I wanna feel you cum.”

 

“Dean!” Castiel groaned, his head dropping against Dean's back as he came.

 

He gripped Dean's cock a little harder as he climaxed, and Dean came with a cry. Castiel continued to rock up into him, both of them twitching. Dean's hand was tight on his hip when they finally stopped. Castiel kissed the base of Dean's neck again and then flopped back onto the bed. Dean joined him, snuggling into Castiel's side with little grumbly noises of contentment.

 

“We’ll have to get some clean pillows,” Castiel said, and Dean laughed.

 

* * *

 

That evening they had a huge meal. The food hall was packed, and there was an air of throwing themselves at it for one last time for all of those going on the mission tomorrow. Castiel didn't think he’d ever laughed so hard.

 

Benny got a gramophone setup and jazz music leaked into the room as they were finishing dinner. Charlie dragged Dorothy to her feet and they started a complicated swing dance that had everybody hooting and clapping. Then Jo pulled Castiel up and spun him in mad circles until they were both giggly and dizzy.

 

Jo released Castiel at just the right moment, and he span out and collided with Dean.

 

“Hi there,” Dean said, smiling down at Castiel where he was leant against Dean's chest.

 

“We were spinning,” Castiel giggled.

 

“I could see,” Dean said, a smile on his face as he gathered Castiel in his arms and started to sway with him to the music.

 

Castiel laid his head on Dean's shoulder, his nose pressed to Dean's neck. It wasn't really the right music for slow dancing, but they made do, rocking slowly from side to side as Benny lead Pam in a fast two step past them.

 

“I want you to know,” Castiel said as they swayed. “This time with you has been the happiest of my life.”

 

Dean kissed the top of his head.

 

“I feel the same way,” he murmured into Castiel's hair.

 

Castiel’s hands clutched Dean's shirt where they rested on his chest. Dean gave his waist a little squeeze.

 

Eventually Castiel got dragged away by Charlie and Dean by Jo. Charlie and Dorothy took it upon themselves to pour as much alcohol down his throat as possible. By the time Dean came to collect him he was swaying where he stood.

 

“Deeeean,” Castiel giggled as he fell against his chest.

 

“Hi there my little drunkard,” Dean laughed.

 

“Dean let's dance,” Castiel said, stepping back and trying to drag Dean into a dance.

 

“Whoops!” Castiel giggled as he tripped.

 

Dean caught him and set him straight.

 

“I think it's probably time for bed,” Dean said, wrapping an arm around Castiel's waist as he guided him from the room.

 

“If you say so, sir,” Castiel said with a serious face as he saluted. “Take me to bed and have your wicked way with me.”

 

Castiel collapsed into a fit of giggles and Dean grimaces as he dragged him up the stairs.

 

“You're awful,” Dean said, but he was suppressing a smile.

 

“Not as bad as you, Mr Big Bad Hunter,” Castiel snickered, before freeing himself from Dean’s grip at the top of the stairs and haring off down the corridor. “Save me from the big bad monster, Mr Hunter.”

 

Dean gave chase and Castiel instantly gave in as Dean caught him around the waist.

 

“Alrighty,” Dean huffed, and hauled Castiel onto his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

 

“Dean!” Castiel giggled as all the blood rushed to his head.

 

He smacked Dean's ass which was conveniently in front of him, and collapsed again into a fit of giggles.

 

When they reached their room Dean threw him down onto the bed. Castiel fell with a shriek of laughter. Dean then began to wrestle Castiel's boots off, a task made more difficult by the fact that Castiel was trying to grab him and kiss him.

 

Dean finally got the boots off, and Castiel wiggles out of his jeans with Dean's help. He got halfway through taking off his shirt before he flopped onto the bed and snuggled into the duvet.

 

Dean undressed and climbed in beside Castiel, who was now snuffling as he settled down to sleep.

 

“Goodnight, Cas,” Dean whispered as he settled down beside him, wrapping the smaller man in his arms.

 

He kissed the top of Castiel's head, and they both slipped into a deep sleep.

 

* * *

 

Castiel slept pretty much the entire way to Wenover the next day. It compensated for his hangover, about which Ellen had not been best pleased. He awoke every few hours to different landscapes, Dorothy and Sam sharing the driving of the minivan.

 

Castiel mostly slept on Dean's shoulder, awaking to find Dean stroking his hair or nudging him gently to get him to eat something. Charlie, Jo, Meg, Rachel and Pam were in the back with them.

 

When Castiel started to recognise the landscape around eleven at night, he sat up straight and stared out of the window. The roads weren't well lit, but he could still see familiar landmarks.

 

His heart was pounding in his chest, and he gripped Dean's hand tightly. Dean freed his hand and wrapped his arm around Castiel. His other hand came up and started stroking Castiel's hair as Castiel lay his head on Dean's chest.

 

“I'm here,” Dean murmured into his hair. “I'm here.”

 

Then he laid a hand on Castiel’s chest.

 

“We are complete,” he said, and Castiel felt a warm glow in his chest under Dean's hand, right where the hole used to be.

 

An hour later and Wenover Castle came into view. High on a hill and illuminated by thousands of torches, the castle was a feat of architecture, turrets that tapered to impossible points, bridges that seemed too delicate to hold their own weight spanned the distance between towers, and brilliant stained glass windows which they were still too far away to see, but which Castiel knew were there.

 

He felt a surge of both fear and hope. This was his home, his birthright, and his place of belonging. But it was also his prison, his torture chamber, and the place his parents had died.

 

Castiel freed himself from under Dean's arm so he could press his cheek against the window, better to see the castle.

 

“How're you doing?” Dean asked from behind him, and Castiel turned and gave him a little smile.

 

“I'm okay,” he said. “I'm home.”

 

And Castiel knew this was true. He wouldn't let Michael sully this place for him, this beautiful palace that held so many happy memories along with the bad. He gripped Dean's hand and set his jaw.

  
He was ready. Perhaps he'd always been ready, but now he was stronger than ever, with Dean at his side and friends at his back, he'd take Michael's weapon from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from holiday so should go back to updating chapters daily :)


	20. Chapter 20

By the time they got to the side door in the wall Castiel's body was humming with adrenaline. They'd dressed in dark clothing, and it was only because of the bright lights of the castle that Castiel could see his fellows.

 

Jo stepped forwards and rapped out a rhythm on the wood of the door. The door creaked open a fraction and a face appeared.

 

“Gabriel?” Castiel said in surprise.

 

The door opened fully and there stood Gabriel, grinning broadly, his golden brown eyes flashing mischievously.

 

“You two know each other?” Dean asked, looking between Gabriel and Castiel.

 

“Of course!” Gabriel beamed at Castiel, flicking his dark blonde hair from his eyes. “Cas here’s my favourite cousin.”

 

Gabriel stepped forward and engulfed Castiel in a hug.

 

“I didn't even know you were alive,” Castiel said when Gabriel released him.

 

“Well I was exiled for a while,” Gabriel explained. “Which is why I was never able to help you. But then the resistance found me, set up a favour for me to perform for our dear old uncle, and I was back in the fold. I was working on finding a way to free you, when you escaped all by yourself! Who'd have thought it, you little scamp.”

 

Gabriel caught Castiel in a headlock and gave him a noogie with his knuckles. Castiel struggled free and saw Rachel looking scandalised that Gabriel had just given a noogie to a prince.

 

“It's, uh, good to see you too, Gabe,” Castiel said, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“Family reunions later,” Jo said, stepping forwards. “We've got a job to do.”

 

“ Enchanté, my lady,” Gabriel murmured, taking Jo’s hand and bowing low to kiss it.

 

The look on Jo’s face was murderous as Sam suppressed a laugh. Jo wrenched her hand free.

 

“If we don’t move soon you’ll be kissing my bullet rather than my hand,” Jo hissed.

 

“Righto” Gabriel agreed, straightening swiftly and giving Jo a very serious salute before leading them through the door.

 

They were in the rose garden. The bushes were free of their usual bloom as the plants prepared for winter, but they still made pretty shapes in the semi darkness. The group made their way through the hedges silently, glancing up at the bright windows of the castle. They made their way round the side of the castle and entered into a courtyard. Castiel recognised it as the courtyard that backed the servants quarters, used to hang laundry out and keep the chickens. They made their way quickly and quietly over the cobblestones to a door in the side of the castle. Gabriel opened it and stuck his head through.

 

“All clear,” he said, and beckoned them to follow as he slipped through.

 

The kitchens were large and well stocked. Dried meats and herbs hung above a hefty preparing table, and brass pots and pans shone from the walls in the moonlight. The fire was just glowing embers at this late hour.

 

Castiel breathed in the smell, recognising the woody scent of the fire along with the spices that were traditional in palace cooking. But he didn't have time to reminisce for long, as they were hurried through to the corridor beyond.

 

The corridor was simple; stone floors and brick walls left bare as only the servants saw it — although when he was a boy he'd regularly snuck down to the kitchens to chase the chickens and listen to the cook’s stories as she fed him sweets.

 

They hurried down the corridor, past laundry rooms and servant’s bedrooms until they reached another door. This one looked different from the others; more solid, with heavy bolts in the frame. Gabriel fished a key from his pocket with a flourish and inserted it into the lock. He twisted it and Dorothy pushed on the door.

 

“Ah ah,” Gabriel said, wagging a finger at her. Then he turned back to the door. “Ouvarum.”

 

The door swung open at the word.

 

“Brystellian locking charm,” Gabriel explained as they peered down the stairway that lead into the darkness beyond.

 

“Right,” Gabriel said, spinning back to face them. “I'm going to go and make myself very noticeable up in the castle so I can't be blamed for this. Toodles.”

 

And with that, he hurried back off up the corridor.

 

“He's annoying,” Dean muttered, scowling after Gabriel.

 

“He grows on you,” Castiel shrugged.

 

Jo stepped forward.

 

“Let's go,” she said, and started the descent into the darkness.

 

A few steps down they found a torch in a wall bracket. Dean took it down and lit it with his lighter. Rachel, who'd been last to come through the door, closed it behind them. They carried on in silence.

 

Eventually they reached a long corridor. At their entry the stone sconces that lined the walls burst into flame.

 

“Well that's not foreboding at all,” Dean muttered.

 

He left the torch in an empty bracket and they proceeded down the corridor.

 

“Wait,” Castiel said, flinging a hand out in front of Charlie to stop her.

 

He peered at the walls on either side.

 

“Give me your lighter,” he said to Dean.

 

Dean handed it to him. Castiel hurled it down the corridor ahead of them.

 

“What—?”

 

Dean’s question was cut off as arrows filled the corridor in front of them. They whistled from one wall to the other, clattering against the stone before falling harmlessly to the floor.

 

“How did you know?” Charlie asked.

 

Castiel pointed to the slots in the wall, barely noticeable in the shadows between the sconces.

 

“Well you saved me,” Charlie said, punching him lightly on the arm. “Hey does this mean we're best friends?”

 

“Sure,” Castiel laughed.

 

“This kind of trap calls for a special skill set,” Meg drawled, stepping forwards.

 

She strolled across to the right hand wall and laid a hand on it. Then she crossed to the other. They watched her as she studied the wall.

 

“Oh surely not,” she muttered to herself, and let out a low laugh.

 

“What?” Rachel asked.

 

“Jamming mechanism,” Meg said simply, collecting one of the fallen arrows.

 

She jammed it into one of the slots and waved her hand in front of another one. Nothing happened.

 

“Sorted,” she said, and strolled out into the line of fire.

 

No more arrows were released and the others followed her.

 

“Impressive,” Pam purred, smirking at Meg.

 

Castiel scooped Dean’s lighter off the floor and handed it back to him. They reached a door at the end of the corridor. Sam wrenched it open and they ducked through.

 

The next room was dark until they stepped into it. When they did, a dull light seemed to emanate from around them, although Castiel could not see its source. Doors rose from the black floor, as though they were pushing up through the surface of a lake, all uniform in their blankness. The room seemed to go off into the darkness with no sign of stopping, and Castiel had the odd sensation that they were suspended in space.

 

“Which one do we go through?” Charlie asked the group at large.

 

“Let's try the first one and work out way around,” Sam suggested.

 

There were murmurs of agreement and they approached the first door, slightly to their left. They opened it to reveal a room with ceilings so high they disappeared off into the darkness.

 

Castiel frowned and walked around to the other side of the door. The other side was just a blank wall of black.

 

“That's impossible,” said Dean, who'd followed him to see the back of the door.

 

“And yet,” Castiel said, “possible.”

 

They returned to the front of the door, which was still open and entered the room beyond. Well, room was probably the wrong word. Castiel thought it looked more like a cathedral.

 

Ghostly blue lights hung in glass orbs, suspended at different heights from the ceiling high above. They all of fell within ten feet of the floor, making the fine chains they hung from very long.

 

The lights were not bright enough to illuminate the whole room. The ceiling was dark above them, and the pinpricks of blue light disappeared into the darkness ahead. Castiel wove his way through the chains, peering at the blue lights in their glass orbs.

 

“They look like merl lights,” he said, looking back at Dean, who was glaring suspiciously at the orbs. “Except they're the wrong colour.”

 

“Mmm,” Dean hummed noncommittally.

 

“This room looks like it goes back really far,” Meg said, peering off into the darkness. “I say we try another door.”

 

They filed out into the room with all the doors. Sam closed the door behind them. As soon as he did all the doors sunk into the floor.

 

“What the hell?” Jo said, but as soon as she'd spoken the doors emerged again from the floor. Except this time, they were in different places.

 

“How're we supposed to know which ones we’ve already tried if they keep moving around?” Charlie asked.

 

“I think that's the point,” Castiel said. “But I suspected something like this might happen.”

 

He reached into his pocket and drew out a piece of chalk.

 

“Try another door,” he said.

 

Meg stepped forwards to the one nearest them and opened it. Beyond the door was a cluttered office.

 

Dean stuck his head in before turning and shaking it.

 

“Just a load of old papers,” Dean said.

 

Castiel crossed to the door and drew a large X on it in the chalk.

 

“Sam try opening another door whilst this one is still open,” Castiel instructed.

 

Sam tried another but it didn't budge.

 

“I thought so,” Castiel said, and closed the door he'd just drawn on.

 

The doors sank down again. But this time when they emerged, Castiel saw his X on one a little way off from where he now stood.

 

“Brilliant!” Dorothy beamed at him.

 

Pam pushed open a door near her. There was darkness beyond it. They stepped forwards, and something hissed from the depth of the room.

 

“Nope,” Charlie said, and went to pull the door shut.

 

“Wait!” Castiel said and quickly hurried to draw and X before the door closed.

 

As soon as it did the doors sunk and reappeared. Now there were two Xs.

 

Dean strode forwards into the gloom and picked a door at random. He pushed it open. Beyond stood a large room, empty except for a huge mirror facing the door, illuminated by a single beam of light.

 

Castiel strode to the door, curious. The mirror didn't seem to be reflecting them. And yet…

 

“Cas what are you doing?”

 

Castiel blinked, he was standing in front of the mirror, his nose inches from it, with no memory of entering the room. Dean and the others stared at him from the doorway.

 

“I heard…” Castiel started, and turned back to the mirror.

 

Its surface seemed to swirl with some kind of mist, and he thought he could hear whispering coming from it.

 

“Cas, come back here,” Dean said from behind him, fear in his voice.

 

“But I…” Castiel raised his hand.

 

Suddenly there was a firm grip on his wrist. He looked up. It was Meg. She met his gaze.

 

“I know what you heard,” she said. “They're not in there, Castiel. Come now.”

 

Perhaps it was because she used his proper name that he obeyed. Perhaps it was the knowing look in her eye. Whatever the reason, he followed her from the room. But he knew what he'd heard. Somewhere in that mirror, his parents were calling his name.

 

He crossed an X in chalk and the doors sank again as Dean closed the door to the mirror room. Castiel shook his head, feeling slightly dazed.

 

Dorothy opened the next door. Beyond a staircase wound down out of sight, torches lighting the way.

 

“This looks promising,” Dean said, peering down the stairs. “Alright,” he said, turning back to face them. “I'll go first, then Sam, Charlie you bring up the rear, if I shout, you get the hell out.”

 

He looked directly into Castiel's eyes.

 

“You got that?”

 

“No,” Castiel said. “I'm as much an operative of this mission as you are, Dean, I go where you go.”

 

Dean frowned, clearly displeased by Castiel's answer. But Meg stepped forward.

 

“Enough of the lover’s spat,” she said, passing through the door. “Let's go already.”

 

And she started the descent. Dean scowled but followed, Castiel hurrying to accompany him. He drew an X on the door as he passed, in case they needed to close the door quickly.

 

The staircase seemed to go on and on, turning as it descended. Castiel felt quite dizzy with it. Eventually they reached a solid round door.

 

“The blood sigil,” Jo said, stepping forward.

 

The door did indeed have that circular interlocking pattern on it, symbols of Castiel's ancestry etched into the metal surface.

 

Castiel stepped right up to it and placed a hand upon it. Nothing happened. He frowned. Then he reread the symbols.

 

“Oh surely nothing so crude,” he said, a smirk on his lips.

 

“What is it?” Dean asked, stepping forwards to stand beside Castiel.

 

“It needs my blood,” Castiel sighed. “Dean may I have your knife.”

 

Dean frowned but handed the knife over. He looked like he was going to say something for a moment, but then thought better of it. He knew how important this was.

 

Castiel clenched his jaw and held the blade to the back of his arm. He didn't want to cut his palm as that would weaken one of his hands. Dean looked away, his fists clenched as Castiel made the cut. It was shallow but enough blood welled to the surface.

 

Castiel pressed his bleeding arm to the centre of the blood sigil. It suddenly glowed with a red light. There was a clunking sound of metal sliding across metal, and the door swung inwards.

  
Castiel turned and smiled at Dean, and then all hell broke loose.


	21. Chapter 21

Castiel was pulled bodily into the room beyond the round door.

 

“Cas!” Dean’s cry followed him as Castiel crashed into the floor, the knife skidding away from him over the stone.

 

The wind was knocked from his lungs and he rolled onto his front, his mouth opening and closing uselessly. Just as he regained his breath a hand fastened around his neck, hauling him to his knees.

 

“Hello, dear nephew.”

 

Michael towered over him. He was unnaturally young looking for his age, sharp cheekbones set in a face that never looked as beautiful as it should for all its fine features.

 

“I'm so glad the rumours of my weapon reached you. And Gabriel, he shall of course be hung for treason.”

 

Castiel gasped as Michael’s hand squeezed his throat momentarily. He heard a volley of gunshots that were abruptly cut off. Michael released his throat and Castiel turned to see that Rowena had the others pinned to the walls with some kind of dreadful power. They struggled helplessly, their guns lying useless on the floor.

 

“Let them go,” Castiel choked out, his eyes on Dean as the hunter strained against the power that held him. “It's me you want. Let the others go.”

 

“Oh but where would be the fun in that?” Michael purred.

 

He pushed a hand through his dark hair as he considered the others. He was wearing simple clothes, nothing like the usual kingly garb he adorned himself with.

 

Castiel cast his eyes around the room, reaching with his mind as he did. The room was circular in shape, all dark stone with interlocking patterns etched into the floor. At its centre, two stone slabs lay side by side, a small, high table between them.

 

Castiel gritted his teeth, stretching his mind.

 

“Oh that won't work in here, deary,” Rowena cooed, fluttering her fingers in a wave at Castiel. “This room is warded, your powers cannot stretch beyond its boundaries, whereas mine are amplified. And seeing as there are no plants in here…”

 

She gave a little shrug.

 

“Enough,” Michael said, his voice ringing out around the chamber. “Let's get this done. Castiel go to the plinths.”

 

Castiel didn't move.

 

“He's in love with that one,” Rowena said sweetly, pointing at Dean.

 

“Hurt him,” Michael said, his voice cold.

 

“No!” Castiel shouted. “I'll go! I'll go.”

 

He stood shakily, and walked to the two plinths.

 

“There's a good boy.” Rowena said, crossing the room to pat his cheek. “Now lie down.”

 

She gestured to one of the plinths. Castiel glanced at Dean, then did as he was told.

 

“Very good,” Rowena purred, and clicked her fingers. Ropes suddenly sprung from the plinth and bound him to it.

 

Rowena stepped up to the table, which Castiel now saw had a bowl and a needle upon it, just like the last time she'd captured him. Michael came and lay down on the other plinth.

 

Castiel's eyes found Dean’s. It was the desperation that he saw in them that told him they had no hope. His gaze was broken as Rowena forced his head to the side, exposing his neck.

 

A tear slipped over the bridge of Castiel’s nose as he stared off into the gloom gathering in the edges of the room. He barely felt the needle. And lay limp as Rowena pushed down the plunger and then stepped away.

 

“Aw my poor boy,” Rowena cooed, taking his chin and turning him to look at her. “Don't worry my sweet it'll be over soon.”

 

It was then that Castiel became aware of a pain spreading through his body from the point of the injection. It was like Rowena had pumped live fire into his veins. He struggled against the bonds, vaguely aware that Rowena was also injecting Michael with the potion.

 

He let out a cry of pain as the fire spread to every area of his body. He could hear Dean screaming his name, but it was like hearing him from a long way off. Castiel just hoped that this wasn't too painful for Dean to watch. He could hear Rowena’s chant, much more clearly than he could hear Dean's cries.

 

“Oothurlim fren,” she uttered, her voice taking on a strange echoing quality in his head. “Aiern dwerthem jaerkin twarn.”

 

She carried on in this vein for a while, the words holding no meaning to Castiel. He was gritting his teeth against the pain coursing through him. He was surprised he hadn't passed out from it yet, surely his body couldn't take much more of this.

 

And then, quite suddenly, it was gone. He blinked, his vision clearing and he saw Rowena with her hands raised to the ceiling looking down at him and Michael.

 

“Is that it?” Michael asked.

 

Castiel heard Dean break into a fit of laughter.

 

“You stupid son of a bitch,” Dean shouted, laughing maniacally. “You stupid, insane son of a bitch. You can't even get your goddamn spells right you bastard.”

 

Rowena snapped her fingers and Dean let out a cry of pain as his head snapped sharply to the side, as though struck by a blow.

 

“No!” Castiel cried.

 

And then he felt it. Curling in his stomach, reaching for his mind, taking over his limbs.

 

She was coming. And she wasn't happy.

 

* * *

 

Dean watched as the change came over Castiel. He went limp, and then his back arched up off the plinth. And suddenly he was ripping through the ropes that bound him, his head low as he stepped from the plinth.

 

“What—?” Rowena started, but she dropped with a cry, her leg broken.

 

Dean and the others suddenly fell, as whatever binding Rowena had held them with broke. Dean scrambled to get his gun, laying a hand on Sam’s shoulder to check he was okay.

 

“Who dares summon me to do thy bidding?” Castiel thundered, and his voice wasn't the same as it echoed around the stone chamber.

 

Castiel looked up then, and Dean gasped. Castiel’s pupils had disappeared, his eyes were a pure shining white.

 

“You,” he hissed, and Michael was dragged into the air.

 

He let out a yelp, struggling as he hung suspended.

 

“You think you can call on Kalin, eater of worlds, mother of chaos, to do your bidding, boy?” Castiel thundered, hatred twisting his face. “I have no time for your kind… You did, however, free me.”

 

Castiel looked down at his hands, as though seeing them for the first time.

 

“And you have given me a body.”

 

An evil smile split across Castiel’s face, and Dean could barely see the man he loved in that expression.

 

“Cas!” he cried, desperate.

 

Castiel looked up. Now that smile was directed at Dean.

 

“Ah, the hunter.”

 

And Dean was dragged struggling across the floor to Castiel's feet. Castiel crouched, and tilted Dean's chin up with one long finger.

 

“He does love you so,” Kalin said with Castiel's mouth. “I can hear him screaming for you… but he’d very weak, he won’t be able to fight for much longer. You are indeed very fine, he has good taste… you shall now be my lover, son of blood and fire.”

 

A shot rang out. Castiel’ shoulder was thrown back as a bullet hit it. Dean turned and saw Pam, her face set as she aimed her gun at Castiel.

 

“Foolish girl,” Castiel spat, and Dean saw that he was uninjured.

 

Castiel didn't even need to move. One minute Pam was standing there, aiming her gun at him, the next her head was snapping to the side, her body crumpling.

 

“Pam!” Dean, Sam and Charlie cried out in unison.

 

But Pam’s body hit the floor and lay still, her head at an awkward angle, her neck clearly broken.

 

“Stop this,” Dean commanded, turning back to Castiel, who's white eyes found his. “Castiel if you're in there, you need to fight this.”

 

“Oh I can see why he likes you,” Castiel purred.

 

He crawled forward and straddled Dean's hips. He gripped Dean's chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted his face up.

 

“So strong,” Castiel murmured, his white eyes searching Dean's. “But so sad. He made you happy, he made you feel complete.”

 

The insane grin spread across his features again.

 

“But only Kalin can complete you my love,” Castiel purred, raking his nails across Dean’s scalp.

 

“Release me!” Michael shouted suddenly, and a flicker of rage briefly flashed across Castiel’s face.

 

He let go of Dean and stood. Michael fell to the floor with a cry.

 

“Little king,” Castiel cooed. “What are you to me but an irritating fly to be swatted. I am grateful to you... oh yes.”

 

Michael was scrambling backwards across the floor, terror on his face. Castiel prowled slowly after him, like a spider whose prey is already bound by its own struggling.

 

“But you're ever so… unnecessary.”

 

There was no warning, just Michael's cry as he burst suddenly into flames. Dean heard a shout of horror from one of the others. Michael writhed on the floor, twisting in pain as the flames consumed him.

 

Then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over. Michael’s corpse lay smouldering on the floor, and Castiel turned back to the others.

  
“I'm sure you'll all be more… worthy subjects,” he purred, a grin twisting his mouth as he looked back at them. “Now… let’s have a few of my friends join us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for no update yesterday, I was super ill! Here's fun with possessed Cas to make up for it.


	22. Chapter 22

Dean's world was falling apart. He was watching a terrible power possess the man he loved, puppeting his body as he called upon other dark forces.

 

Castiel was currently standing stock still, his head bowed as he muttered foreign words. Dean looked to Sam, who looked just as lost as he felt. Charlie tried the door, but it didn't budge. And still Castiel muttered away in that strange language.

 

Dean hurried over to Sam, trying not to draw attention to himself.

 

“What do we do?” Dean asked, looking back at Castiel from where they crouched near the wall.

 

“I don't know,” Sam moaned. “She seems invulnerable to bullets, I don't know any spells to send her back… I guess we have to try and get Castiel to fight her from within.”

 

At that moment there was a crack. Dean turned and saw, to his horror, that the floor at Castiel's feet was splitting open. Castiel raised his hands, and an ominous fiery glow issued from the fissure.

 

“Come, my children,” Castiel said, adoration in his voice. “We have a world to consume.”

 

Dean could hear wails and hissing from whatever beasts were crawling their way up towards the split between worlds. Castiel's face was lit from beneath by the red light of the fire, his white eyes terrible in the glow.

 

Dean wasn't sure what made him do it. He just knew that one minute he was crouched on the floor, feeling hopeless, the next he was sprinting across the room. He leapt clean over the split in the floor. Castiel looked up at him.

 

“What—?”

 

Dean broke Castiel's question as his mouth met his. He gripped Castiel tightly, his lips seeking his even as Castiel went to pull away, Kalin fighting inside him.

 

“I love you, Castiel Novak,” Dean murmured as their lips broke apart, still holding Castiel's face firmly so those terrible white eyes were forced to meet his. “And I know you can fight her.”

 

There was a heartbeat in which Castiel’s pupiless eyes grew wide. And then his face crumpled. He screamed. Dean caught him as his legs gave up on him. Castiel shook violently in his arms.

 

“You can do this, my love,” Dean murmured into Castiel's hair, holding him firmly.

 

Castiel let out another scream and it was terrible, full of so much pain. Dean gritted his teeth, tears blurring his vision.

 

There was a grating noise, and Dean turned with Castiel still in his arms, to see the crack in the floor closing. Terrible screams we're now issuing from the crack too, but it closed upon them, extinguishing the fire as it shut.

 

Castiel continued to shake in Dean's arms. Then he spoke.

 

“No,” he growled, and Dean knew that it wasn't Castiel speaking.

 

“Yes,” Dean said, catching Castiel's chin again and forcing those awful white eyes to look at him. “He is stronger than you'll ever be, because he is so much more than the hate, and fear, and greed that things like you feed off. Because he puts the stars into my heaven, and he holds my world in his hands. And I will always love him.”

 

Castiel's face broke. He let out another terrible scream, long and drawn out, his eyes scrunching shut. Then he went limp in Dean's arms.

 

Dean sank to his knees. He was vaguely aware of the others hurrying to his side. But he didn't care. He turned Castiel so his face was visible, and Castiel's head flopped back against Dean's arm, his eyes shut, his expression blank.

 

“Cas,” Dean whispered, tears falling freely down his face. He pressed a hand to Castiel’s chest. There was no heartbeat. “Please don't be dead, Cas, you can't be dead. You only just learnt how to live… you taught me how to live.”

 

Castiel’s eyes stayed closed. Dean curled around Castiel's body as a roaring filled his ears, and sobbed.

 

It was as though something inside him had broken. It screamed from his chest, tore into his sanity, broke his heart into pieces. And he knew real pain. Knew that the pain of another’s death was so much more terrifying than the pain of his own. Knew that he’d take Castiel’s place in a second, if it meant that Castiel could carry on being happy, and whole, and alive. Knew that he would never love anyone again, like he had Castiel.

 

“Dean?”

 

Dean sat up quickly, hiccuping back a sob as he stared down at Castiel. Castiel was blinking dazedly up at him.

 

“Cas!” Dean cried, and flung himself on him again, holding him tightly.

 

“Hey,” Castiel croaked, patting Dean's back. “Glad to see you too.”

 

“I thought… I thought…” Dean sobbed, unable to finish the sentence as he clutched Castiel to him and shook uncontrollably.

 

“It's okay,” Castiel murmured, drawing Dean's mouth to his. “I'm okay.”

 

When their lips broke apart, Castiel looked around.

 

“Where's Michael?” he asked.

 

Dean pointed, and Castiel turned.

 

* * *

 

Castiel stared at the charred corpse of his uncle, trying to put a label on the feeling he was experiencing right now.

 

Part of it was relief, but there was also part of him that pitied Michael, the man who'd let greed and ambition take from him any chance of true love and happiness. Castiel knew what pure hatred felt like. He had tasted it in Kalin as she puppeted his body. Having her use him had been agony, the details of it blurry. He only knew he’d heard Dean’s voice, and the knowledge that he, Castiel, would die for Dean, had torn Kalin from him.

 

There was a grating of metal on metal, and they looked round to see a flash of red hair disappearing around the door.

 

“Rowena,” Sam growled. “You guys go, we’ll get Pam.”

 

“Why, where's Pam?” Castiel asked

 

The others looked at each other uneasily, that's when he noticed only Rachel, Jo, Meg and Sam had joined Dean at his side. Charlie, Dorothy and Pam were not there. Castiel sat up.

 

As Meg and Rachel took off after Rowena, Castiel saw Charlie and Dorothy were crouched next to a still form on the floor.

 

“Who is that?” Castiel asked, fear in his voice. “Where's Pam?”

 

“Cas,” Dean said, and Castiel turned to see there were fresh tears falling down Dean's face. “It was her, she was using your body. Pam… Pam didn't make it.”

 

“What do you mean didn't make it?” Castiel asked, confused.

 

“She's gone, Cas,” Sam said gently.

 

“No,” Castiel said firmly. “No I fought her, I fought Kalin, Pam can't be dead because I fought Kalin.”

 

“So did Pam,” Jo said, and there were tears on her face too. “She just didn't win.”

 

“No I did not kill her,” Castiel said firmly, going to stand and swaying alarmingly.

 

“Cas,” Dean said softly, supporting him as he too stood. “Of course you didn't kill her. It was that thing inside you, it wasn't your fault.”

 

But as Castiel watched Charlie fold Pam’s hands across her chest, he couldn't help the choking, awful guilt that swept over him. If only he'd been stronger.

 

No. With Michael gone there was only one person left to blame for this. Castiel took off, ignoring Dean's shout of his name.

 

He flew up through the door and up the spiral staircase, his vision blurring slightly with dizziness. When he reached the room with the doors, he heard a gunshot from behind one. All the Xs had faded now, but it didn't matter, he knew where he was going.

 

As he tore towards the door from which he'd heard the shot, he caught sight of Dean and Jo dashing from the door he'd just passed through. It closed behind them and he wrenched the door he now faced open.

 

Rowena’s hair whirled around her as she worked spell after spell, deflecting the gunshots which Rachel and Meg fired at her. She stood in front of the mirror Castiel had almost touched earlier.

 

Her eyes found Castiel’s as he dashed into the room and the momentary distraction meant that one of Meg’s bullets caught her in the shoulder. She let out a cry of pain as she toppled backwards.

 

And then she was falling through the mirror, the purple lace of her dress swishing as it disappeared right into the glass.

 

There was silence, save for the whispering of the mirror. All of them stared at the glassy surface. Rowena did not step out of it.

 

“She's gone,” Meg said. She turned to Castiel. “For good. There's no coming back from that mirror.”

 

“Why?” Castiel asked, his gaze flicking between Meg and the mirror. “Where does it lead to?”

 

“Death,” Meg said, then shook her head. “No more questions. Let's get out of here.”

 

Castiel gazed at the mirror. He could hear it whispering, beckoning him.

 

“But—”

 

“No, Cas,” Meg said firmly, and grabbed his arm, swinging him around and marching him from the room.

 

Dorothy, Sam and Charlie had carried Pam’s body up from the room below, and were standing with her cradled in their arms. Castiel felt that terrible wave of guilt again.

 

“Where's the goddamn exit?” Dean asked, looking around at the doors.

 

As though it had been waiting for him to ask, one of the doors swung open, revealing the corridor they'd come down earlier. They hurried towards it. When they worked their way up into the castle above, it was to find Gabriel with a group of people. They seemed to have rounded up Michael’s guards in the entrance courtyard, and were standing watch over them.

 

“What’s this?” Castiel asked as they emerged into the torchlit courtyard.

 

“Well when I got wind that Michael and Rowena were down in The Underneath, I thought you might need a little help securing your throne,” Gabriel explained, grinning at Castiel. “Of course if you haven’t finished him off this may be a little more difficult to pull off.”

 

“We have,” Dean said.

 

Castiel looked up at the colossal statue of Michael in the centre of the courtyard. The stone face was stern, staring down at the entry gate, a crown on its head, a book in one hand, a sword in the other. Castiel looked back down at the eager faces who surrounded the guards, all looking to him for instruction.

 

“I’m not going to be king,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

 

The guards stirred and the faces of the resistance members Gabriel had gathered fell.

 

“I’m going to put in place a fair government,” Castiel continued. “One that shall be run by a leader who is elected by the people, and who steps aside every five years for a new leader. We’re going to have a Nehrinian system, a fair system.”

 

Gabriel clapped and hooted, and was soon followed by the other resistance members and the courtyard echoed with their applause. Castiel flushed a dark shade of red.

 

“For now, I’d like you to arrange secure holdings for our friends here.” Castiel gestured to the guards, many of whom looked slightly relieved. “In the morning we shall sort who is loyal amongst them. You can then find yourself bedrooms within the castle, there is enough space for everyone.”

 

Then he turned back to his friends.

 

“Sam, Charlie, Dorothy,” he addressed them, his face grave. “Let’s put Pam in one of the sitting rooms on the ground floor. In the morning we shall arrange a burial. I’d also like to send people to see if we can recover the body of Inias from the Talbot house. He was a good man, he deserves a proper farewell. Then please do find yourself bedrooms, I shall be on the top floor of the west tower, I’d appreciate it if you could find rooms close to mine.”

 

They sprung into action, those who weren’t helping carry Pam going to help Gabriel and the others with the guards. Dean approached him, and took his hand.

 

“You make an excellent leader,” Dean said, smiling softly at him.

 

“I’m not going to be king, Dean,” Castiel sighed, pushing a hand through his dark hair.

 

“Hell no, that’s the last thing I want,” Dean said, surprised. “I was just saying… but you look very pale, I think we should get you to bed.”

 

Castiel nodded and let Dean lead him back into the castle. He stumbled slightly on the steps, drained as he was, but Dean caught him. He looked up at the entrance hall as they entered it.

 

It was adorned with Michael’s colours, a brilliant chandelier suspended above them. A set of double doors lead to the great hall, but they took the stairs to the right. The corridors were mostly lined with either tapestries or portraits, the walls either mahogany paneling or rich silk wallpaper in greens, blues or reds.

 

When they reached the west tower, Castiel hurried to see his parents’ room. He burst through the door, feeling rather out of breath. The round room was strangely untouched, as though his mother and father had just stepped out and would be back at any moment. This puzzled Castiel. Why had Michael not gotten rid of all of their things? And then it occurred to him that Michael feared them, feared entering this room where he’d had them murdered, feared disturbing the memory of them.

 

The bedroom was large, spanning most of the whole tower. Windows surrounded it, stretching from the floor to the high ceiling in long strips and usually looking out on the small city and mountains beyond. Castiel went to the desk, and found a box of matches. He lit the candles dotted about the room, and then lit the fire in the hearth. He turned and looked around. A large four poster bed sat between two windows on his left, the door with Dean still standing in it directly in front of him. On his right was a seating area, a little coffee table with a book lying face open and face down. Castiel crossed to it. He picked up the little hard back book. This had been his mother’s. She must’ve placed it down like this to save her place before going to bed, never to return to reading it.

 

It was strange that nothing was dusty, and then Castiel realised with a jolt that despite Michael’s wish that this room was not disturbed, the servants had still been cleaning it. They probably missed his parents a great deal too.

 

Castiel crossed to the wardrobe near the bed and opened it. His parents clothes hung inside. He took one of the finely embroidered sleeves of his father’s jacket and held it to his face. He thought he might still be able to smell him on the fabric, but perhaps that was just his imagination. Then he closed the wardrobe and went to the other side of the bed.

 

His mother’s dressing table stood undisturbed. Castiel sat on the little stool and gazed at his reflection. He was indeed pale. He looked away and opened the jewellery box in front of him. He ignored the fine jewels, and instead drew out a silver locket on a fine chain. His family’s crest was etched into the surface. He flipped it open.

 

Inside were miniature sketches of his mother and father, facing each other in the two halves. His father had a kind face, a large beard beneath his twinkling eyes. His mother was beautiful, waves of dark hair cascading over her shoulders and a knowing smile playing around her lips.

 

“I miss you so much,” Castiel whispered to them, his hand shaking as he clutched the locket. “I wish you could see me now… and meet Dean… I think you’d like him.”

 

Castiel drew a shaky breath. He couldn’t find the right words to say to them, but he stared at their pictures for a while longer. Eventually he closed the locket and looked up. He saw in the mirror’s reflection that Dean was standing over by the seating area, his back turned to give Castiel privacy.

 

Castiel closed the locket and stood. He looped it round his neck as he undressed, not wanting to be apart from it. Dean turned and saw what he was doing. He went around and extinguished the candles, until only the light of the fire remained. Then he joined Castiel. When they were down to their boxers, they climbed into the four poster bed.

 

The sheets were clean and welcoming, and Castiel felt a surge of gratitude to the servants of the castle. He tucked himself under Dean’s arm, his head on his shoulder.

 

“Are you okay?” Dean asked him.

 

The fire crackled in the hearth, and Castiel stared into it over Dean’s chest.

 

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I’m going to make this castle a happy place again. Maybe open it to the public, hold balls here. I dunno.”

 

There was a pause. Castiel could hear Dean’s steady heartbeat where he rested his head against Dean’s chest.

 

“I had hoped…” Dean started hesitantly. “That you’d come to live with me in Nehrin.”

 

Castiel smiled.

 

“I had hoped that too,” he said. “Doesn’t stop us from throwing an extravagant ball every now and then. I’m not usually one for pomp and pageantry, but I think it’s what the people of Anglestad need, after such a dark time.”

 

“I agree,” Dean hummed, and Castiel knew he was smiling. “I get to dance with you for real at a proper ball then?”

 

“Right through until the dawn.” Castiel grinned and pressed a kiss to Dean’s chest.

 

“Ah, but I thought our love was forbidden, son of a common farmer?” Dean teased.

 

Castiel laughed and raised his head to kiss him.

 

“I love you, Dean Winchester,” Castiel sighed when their lips parted.

 

“I love you too Castiel No…” Dean’s eyes were suddenly bright.

 

“What?” Castiel asked, searching Dean’s face. “What is it?”

 

Dean sat up, drawing Castiel with him. Then he knelt, Castiel facing him, utterly confused.

 

“Castiel Novak,” Dean started, taking Castiel’s hands in his and meeting his gaze with an intense look. “Will you marry me?”

 

Castiel’s hands flew to his mouth. Dean blurred as tears filled his eyes.

 

“Yes,” Castiel gasped. “Yes I’ll marry you, Dean.”

 

Castiel launched himself at Dean, and they fell laughing onto the bed. He kissed Dean fiercely.

 

“I’m going to have a family again,” Castiel laughed, wiping the tears from his eyes as he stared down at Dean.

 

“You already have one,” Dean said, brushing his hair back from his forehead as he gazed at Castiel with a look that made Castiel’s head spin. “I am your family.”

  
Castiel kissed him again. It took them a little while to fall asleep, the new energy of Dean’s proposal fuelling a good long chat. But when they did, they did so with smiles on their faces and their arms entwined around each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting there folks! Thank you to everyone who's commented and left kudos, means the world!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I MISSED OUT A WHOLE CHAPTER WTF

Ellen and Naomi arrived the next day. Castiel had come down to find that someone had removed the hangings with Michael’s coat of arms upon them. Naomi was in the process of sending word to those who had been exiled, and it was with joy in his heart that Castiel learnt his cousin on his mother’s side was still alive. Anna. Kind, brave Anna.

Of course it made sense that Michael would exile her rather than kill her. She was popular but did not have enough power to overthrow him. Her death so soon after Castiel’s parents could have meant an uprising. She was noble and honourable, and the people loved her for her good heart and wisdom.

Charlie shrieked when Dean and Castiel announced their engagement. Sam nearly bowled Castiel over with a hug.

“You’re going to be my brother!” he said, grinning at Castiel. “I’m going to have a Mahai and a prince for a brother!”

Castiel laughed and patted him on the back. He was met with many other congratulations throughout the day. Even Benny, when he arrived with Ellen, patted him on the back and shook his hand.

“Look after him, brother,” Benny said with a smile, and Castiel felt his anger towards him slip away.

“You shall of course stay whilst we figure out how exactly we are going to run the government?” Naomi said, as they sat in what was formerly the war room.

Ellen, Sam, Dean, Rachel, and Gabriel sat with them around the long table. Maps covered the walls, a large map of Anglestad and the surrounding areas etched into the table top.

“No, I trust that you know what you’re doing,” Castiel said, his gaze on the mountains visible through the floor to ceiling windows in the opposite wall. “I’m leaving Ellen here to help get you set up, and I’ll only be in Nehrin should you need me. But Naomi, know that I expect a fair government and a change of leader every five years. If I catch even a hint of tyranny–”

“All will be safe with me, Castiel,” Naomi assured him. “I won’t be taking over without putting it to the vote of the people, and I daresay Anna will want to run against me.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Castiel said. “Dean and I shall be making our home in Nehrin, but will always come when you need us. I’d like to have regular balls at the palace over the coming months, I think it is what the people need.”

“I quite agree,” Naomi said, with a small smile.

“And there’ll be the wedding,” Sam said eagerly. “We can have it here can’t we?”

“Sure,” Castiel laughed. “That’d be nice.”

“If that is all,” Dean spoke up. “I’d like my fiancee to give me a tour of the castle.”

“You’re free to go,” Naomi said, waving them away.

Castiel bowed his head to her and stood along with Dean.

Castiel showed Dean the great hall, with its magnificent tapestries and stained glass windows. They saw the library, shelves upon shelves of books which would’ve made Sam shriek with delight. They visited the chapel, a lovely little thing, with a deep blue ceiling adorned with gold stars to mimic the night sky. They laughed into the wind from the tallest tower, their hair and clothes whipped up as they leaned between the battlements to see out over the mountains.

They finished in the orchard, strolling through the apple trees with their fingers interlaced. Apples were heavy on the branches, the last left over from the harvest. Leaves crunched under foot, and sunlight painted them in golden light.

“It’s beautiful, Cas,” Dean said. “I can’t believe you grew up here. I worry…”

Dean trailed off, and Castiel gave his hand a little squeeze.

“What do you worry, Dean?” Castiel prompted.

“I worry that some humble little home in Nehrin won’t be enough for you,” Dean sighed, not meeting his gaze.

“Dean,” Castiel said, drawing Dean around to look at him. Dean looked up reluctantly. “I was always happiest in humble homes. Hannah’s for instance, suited me much better than this place. I used to find all this… slightly overwhelming to tell you the truth. That’s why I’d always be down in the kitchens with the cooks and servants. They were more my kind of people than the courtiers. Speaking of which I should go and see if Jody still works in the kitchens.”

“Who’s Jody?” Dean asked as they resumed their walking.

“She was the cook’s apprentice,” Castiel explained. “I know the cook left, but perhaps she took over. She was a bit older than me and was always of giving me sweets and playing games with me. I liked her alot.”

“We should go see her then,” Dean said, and they turned back to the castle.

Jody was indeed in the kitchens, smeared with flour and looking harried. She let out a strangled scream when she saw Castiel, and launched herself at him.

“I didn’t want to let myself believe it to be true,” Jody said, clutching Castiel to her. “In case it wasn’t and Michael had been overthrown by some other idiot with a power complex.”

“Well it’s true,” Castiel said, beaming at her as they parted. “It’s so good to see you, Jody.”

“You have no idea how good it is to see you,” Jody said. “When I heard of your escape I burnt a whole roast I was so flustered, and then – and who’s this?”

Jody cut herself off, taking Dean in.

“Jody Mills, meet Dean Winchester,” Castiel said, presenting Dean with a flourish of his hand. “My fiancee.”

“Fi… fiancee?” Jody asked, looking to Castiel for confirmation.

Castiel nodded, a broad grin on his face. Jody launched herself at Dean this time. He looked taken aback, but managed to catch her.

“Nice to meet you too,” he chuckled as Jody released him.

“Oh I’m so happy for you both,” Jody said, clasping each of their hands in her own. “When’s the wedding?”

“Uh, we hadn’t decided,” Castiel said, looking at Dean. “We only got engaged last night.”

“Well when you know you need to let me know,” Jody said. “I’ll be there with bells on, that is… assuming I’m invited?”

“Of course you are, Jody, don’t be silly,” Castiel said, waving her concern away. “Is Jess still here?”

“Oh yes,” Jody said with a grin. “She’s grown up into quite the lady.”

“And Jess is…?” Dean asked, looking between the two of them.

“Daughter of one of the servants,” Castiel explained. “She and I were quite close growing up. I rather think Sam should meet her.”

Castiel smirked at the thought. Jess had always been wicked smart and loved books. She’d been pretty even as a young girl, and Castiel had no doubt that Sam would fall head over heels the moment he met her.

After seeing Jody they wandered around the castle a bit more, Castiel checking in on his favourite haunts and showing Dean little parts of his family. The servants were busy restoring some of the art that had been removed during Michael's reign.

“There's me,” Castiel said, pointing to a painting that was being hung in the long gallery which looked out over the gardens.

Two servants were hanging the large family portrait depicting himself as a boy, sat between his mother and father. They went and stood before it, watching as it claimed its rightful place on the wall.

“Your mother is very beautiful,” Dean said, his eyes on the dark haired woman in a long red dress and delicate crown.

Even in this painting her eyes seemed to sparkle with wit, and the corner of her mouth was slightly quirked into a knowing smile.

“She was very intelligent and had an excellent wit,” Castiel said. “My father liked her because she could always outsmart all the men around her, including him, and have them falling over themselves to please her.”

“He looks kind,” Dean offered, his eyes now on the bearded man in an embroidered blue jacket and heavily jewelled crown.

“He was,” Castiel said. “He always made time to learn all the servants’ names, and treated them with the upmost respect. He'd let me ride around on his shoulders when he was meeting officials. Their faces were always very funny when they expected to meet a serious king and got him instead.”

“And you were very cute.” Dean grinned at him.

“I was alright,” Castiel agreed, his eyes on the dark haired boy sat between his mother and father, his face serious even back then.

He wondered if some part of him had known that they were in danger even back then. Had known that things were too good to be true, and that there were far too many snakes with their eyes on the prize for them to be happy forever. Castiel stared into the painted eyes of his younger self, and felt great pity for him, for the pain that he would face.

Then he felt a swell of happiness. Not all the pain was gone, nothing could change the fact that his parents had been taken from him. But he had a new family, a new place to belong, a new happy ending. His heart was frayed and worn, but Dean had helped him stitch the pieces back together, and held it together with his constantly caring hands.

Castiel reached out and interlaced his fingers with Dean’s. Dean smiled at him.

“You okay?” Dean asked, smoothing his thumb over the back of Castiel’s hand.

“Very much so,” Castiel said, returning his smile.


	24. Chapter 24

In the months leading up to their wedding, Castiel and Dean found a house in Nehrin and made it their home. They chose a cottage on the outskirts of the capital, so that Castiel would have plenty of nature around him. He became the herbalist for their local community, but would take breaks to accompany Dean on his hunting trips. Castiel couldn’t stand the idea of Dean going on his own, and with Castiel’s powers they made quick work of the jobs.

 

Castiel grew wisteria around the door of the cottage, which made Dean laugh. Sometimes Castiel would greet Dean as he came home by grabbing him with the wisteria and dragging him through the door for a kiss.

 

Sam started dating Jess, and the pair of them often visited Castiel and Dean. With Castiel’s help, Sam wrote an academic paper on Mahai that got published, and he retired from the Men of Letters to become a Teacher.

 

Anna became the leader of the new government of Anglestad, with Naomi as her second in command. She was thrilled to see Castiel, and often asked him for his opinion on matters of the kingdom.

 

The morning of his wedding, Castiel could be found standing in his parents’ bedroom at Wenover Castle. He was gripping his mother’s silver locket which hung around his neck, as he stared out of the floor to ceiling windows over the mountains. The silver threads of the beautiful embroidery of his velvet midnight blue jacket caught the light.

 

The door opened behind him. Anna came in, looking radiant in a long green dress of velvet, flowers woven into her long red hair.

 

“Are you ready?” she asked, her voice gentle.

 

“Yes,” Castiel said, and tucked the locket back under his shirt to lay over his heart.

 

He accompanied her from the room, and together they went down to the entrance hall. Castiel could hear the cheers of the crowds gathered out in the castle grounds. The royal marriage had drawn a lot of attention, and news reporters and fans had been crowding the castle since the early hours of the morning.

 

“Breathe,” Anna reminded him, placing a hand on his arm.

 

Castiel took a deep breath in, and then slowly exhaled.

 

“Good,” Anna said softly, giving him a warm smile.

 

Her dark eyes found his and they stared at each other for a moment.

 

“I’m so happy that you’re here,” Castiel told her, giving her hand a squeeze.

 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, dear cousin,” Anna said, her smile lighting up her already gorgeous face.

 

Castiel took her arm, and turned to face the door. He gave the servants waiting there a little nod, and the two men pushed the heavy double doors open.

 

Music filtered out into the entrance hall, soft, orchestral music which warmed Castiel’s heart. The rows of people sat in the pews laid out in the great hall turned as the door opened, and Castiel suddenly found hundreds of pairs of eyes on him. He swallowed, and he and Anna took a step forwards. Garlands of white roses hung from the end of the pews, and on tall stands interspaced between the tapestries on either side. There were candles everywhere he looked, hanging from the ceiling in candelabras, dotted amongst the flowers in their stands, and taking up every available flat surface, including some areas of the floor.

 

Castiel’s eyes found Dean. He was stood at the other end of the aisle near the slightly raised section of floor where the throne usually sat but had been moved. He’d not turned round yet, and Castiel thought he might be taking a moment to gather himself. Then Sam leant over from where he stood by Dean’s side, and whispered in his ear. Dean turned.

 

The smile that broke across Dean’s face was worth more than all the people in the room being there, and Castiel felt his own lips stretch in response as their eyes met. Dean was in a dark red velvet jacket with gold embroidery, Sam in a matching one with less embroidery adorning it. Castiel hardly noticed this however, his eyes still fixed on Dean’s as he finally drew level with him.

 

“You look beautiful,” Dean murmured, taking Castiel’s hands in his.

 

“So do you,” Castiel returned, his grin uncontrollable.

 

“Friends and family,” Ellen said from beside them, and Castiel and Dean turned to face her where she stood in front of them. “We have gathered here today to witness the union of Castiel of the House of Novak, and Dean of the House of Winchester. Today is a testament to what hope can achieve in the darkest of times, and what love can conquer in the face of impossible odds.”

 

She smiled at both of them, and held out a hand to each of them. They each took one of hers, forming a circle between the three of them.

 

“Dean Winchester,” Ellen began, looking to Dean. “Do you promise to take Castiel to be your partner for life, to live in truth with him, to give him your hand and your heart, and to pledge your love, devotion, faith and honor as you join your life to his?”

 

“I do,” Dean said firmly, his eyes alight with that green fire as he stared into Castiel’s.

 

Dean went blurry in Castiel’s vision as Ellen turned to him.

 

“Castiel Novak,” Ellen addressed him. “Do you promise to take Dean to be your partner for life, to live in truth with him, to give him your hand and your heart, and to pledge your love, devotion, faith and honor as you join your life to his?”

 

“I do,” Castiel whispered, unable to fully find his voice as the tears spilled over.

 

Ellen released their hands and instead held a hand out to Sam. He presented her with a long strip of white silk, which she took and wound around Dean and Castiel’s clasped hands. Then she uttered something low under her breath.

 

The silk started to disintegrate, flaking to the floor as the binding spell worked upon it.

 

“We raise this union up to the forces that govern us all,” Ellen said, raising her hands up. “We ask that fate is kind to these two souls, and that they may always find each other, in this life and the next.”

 

She lowered her hands as the last of the silk fell away. Swirling lines of light spread out across Dean and Castiel’s hands where their skin met, glowing brightly for a moment before fading to nothing.

 

“As senator of Nehrin and high priestess of Lohrin, I now pronounce you husband and husband,” Ellen said, grinning at them both. “You may kiss.”

 

Dean smashed into Castiel so hard that he was nearly bowled over. Their kiss was met by earsplitting applause as Dean lifted Castiel from his feet. Castiel’s ears were ringing and both their faces were wet from his tears when their lips parted.

 

“I love you, Dean Winchester-Novak,” Castiel said, just loud enough to be heard over the noise their guests were making.

 

“And I love you, Castiel Wincester-Novak,” Dean returned, his whole face aglow with his smile as he placed Castiel back down.

 

They turned to their guests, who were still applauding and whooping loudly. They set off down the aisle, and Castiel saw the faces of many friends and relatives who he’d been reunited with since they came out of exile. Anna was crying great tears of joy, waving a handkerchief as they passed her. Jody was no better, leaning heavily on Jess’ shoulder as she wept and clapped for them. Gabriel was wolf whistling and winking where he stood next to his blonde headed brother, Balthazar, who was grinning and giving Castiel the thumbs up. All the resistance members that Castiel had met were there; Charlie, Dorothy, Benny, Rachel, Meg, Jo, Cassie, Adam, Tara, even Naomi, were clapping as they passed. It was with a pang that Castiel remembered those that couldn’t be with them; Inias, defending Castiel from Michael’s soldiers, and Pam, defending the world from Castiel.

 

Bright sunlight and loud applause greeted them as they stepped out the front doors of the castle. They waved at the crowds who had gathered on the other side of the railing, many of them holding signs with messages of love support. The statue of Michael had been taken down, and in its place stood a huge oak tree, behind which the crowds were penned back.

 

“This is weird,” Dean muttered in an aside to Castiel.

 

“You get used to it,” Castiel shrugged, smiling broadly at the crowd as he waved.

 

“Really?” Dean asked.

 

“No,” Castiel replied. “It’s always weird.”

 

Dean laughed and kissed him on the cheek, which caused an uproar amongst the crowd as whooping and whistling joined in the thunderous applause.

 

“Well if that’s the response we get we should really give them a show,” Dean said, and dipped Castiel low as he kissed him.

 

The noise was earsplitting. Castiel grinned against Dean’s lips, clinging to the front of his jacket.

 

“You’re awful,” Castiel murmured against Dean’s mouth.

 

“Just giving the people what they want,” Dean replied, his eyes twinkling as he set Castiel back upright.

 

“Huh,” Castiel said, his cheeks slightly flushed. “One could almost think you like all this.”

 

“One would be wrong,” Dean said, as Sam, Jess and several of their other guests joined them on the steps.

 

“We partying yet?” Gabriel asked, popping up at Castiel’s elbow.

 

Castiel laughed.

 

“Sure, go open a few bottles for us,” Castiel agreed, and Gabriel flashed him a grin before whizzing off back inside in the direction of the rose garden.

 

“Bottles sound great,” Dean said, and they turned back inside with one last wave to the crowd.

 

* * *

 

The late spring evening was warm, roses filling the air with their heady scent. Merl lights bobbed slightly in the breeze, enchanted to stay hanging around the rose entwined archways. Glow flies added their pinpricks of light to the scene as they flitted from bush to bush, attracted to the smell of flowers and mirroring the star studded sky above.

 

Castiel was sat on the edge of the fountain, smiling as his guests danced a little way off, spinning on a dance floor under a gazebo which had been erected in a clear space between the bushes. Roses climbed up the pillars of the gazebo, smaller merl lights strung between them to give the dance floor a soft, golden glow. The band were playing an upbeat song, and he’d only just sat down after being dragged around by Gabriel and Jo. He’d been sitting there for a little while, when Balthazar came and joined him.

 

“How’s it going, Cassie?” Balthazar asked, handing him a glass of wine.

 

“Very, very well,” Castiel said, a lazy smile on his face as he accepted the drink. “Have you enjoyed yourself?”

 

“Very much so,” Balthazar said, clinking his glass to Castiel’s before taking a sip. “It’s wonderful to see you happy, by the way.”

 

“I think that’s the most sincere thing you’ve ever said to me,” Castiel laughed, his face half in shadow in the soft glow of the merl lights.

 

“There’s nothing more boring than sincerity, dear cousin,” Balthazar drawled, leaning on the rim of the fountain with one hand as he sipped wine with the other.

 

“Never stop being you, Balty,” Castiel grinned, sipping his wine as he watched a glow fly buzz lazily from one rose to the next.

 

“I think that’s my cue,” Balthazar said, as Dean spotted them from where he stood on the steps of the gazebo and started towards them.

 

Balthazar stood, and gave Castiel a wink before disappearing off amongst the rose bushes.

 

“Your majesty,” Dean said somberly, bowing low as he reached Castiel. “May I have this dance?”

 

“I thought we’d agreed that you’d stop calling me that,” Castiel laughed, taking Dean’s offered hand.

 

“Ah but it’s just too much fun to resist,” Dean replied, a wicked grin on his face as he drew Castiel to his feet.

 

“And yet,” Castiel said, a sly smile on his face. “Easy enough to resist if the outcome is no sex.”

 

“Agh you torture me so, sir,” Dean said, clutching his heart and staggering about as they made their way to the gazebo. “Is this what married life is going to be like? Are you going to banish me to sleep on the couch next?”

 

“Only if you’re very bad,” Castiel teased, pecking Dean on the cheek as they reached the gazebo. “But I’m sure I can find better ways to punish you,” he purred in Dean’s ear, making him shudder.

 

“I look forward to it,” Dean murmured, kissing him briefly before spinning him out.

 

Castiel laughed as he and Dean did some sort of jive, the moves of which didn’t really make sense, and mostly ended up with them spinning each other round and collapsing against each other in fits of laughter.

 

“You two are terrible at that,” Sam called as he span past with Jess.

 

“Terribly sexy you mean,” Dean called back, spinning Castiel out so he nearly collided with a woman in a ridiculously large hat.

 

Sam guffawed and Dean and Castiel were left giggling as Castiel fell back against Dean’s chest. The music changed, smoothly slipping into a slower song. Dean and Castiel swayed, Castiel’s head on Dean’s shoulder as he closed his eyes.

 

“Did you ever think we would be this happy?” Castiel murmured as they rocked back and forth.

 

“I was happy from the moment we first kissed,” Dean replied, and Castiel’s heart skipped a beat.

 

“That was wonderfully corny,” Castiel hummed, a broad smile on his lips.

 

“I know,” Dean agreed, his voice a comforting hum from his chest.

 

“Do you reckon anyone will notice if we slip away?” Castiel asked, opening his eyes to peek at the other dancers.

 

“Do I think anyone will notice if the two people who’s wedding it is disappear?” Dean said, his voice skeptical. “I think they just might, yeah.”

 

“Ah well then they’ll just have to miss us,” Castiel said, and straightened to grin at Dean.

 

Dean kissed him firmly.

 

“Such a shame for them,” Dean murmured, his breath making Castiel shudder.

 

“Such a shame,” Castiel agreed.

 

“We should go quickly before they try and stop us,” Dean said.

 

“Agreed,” Castiel said, and they turned and hurried from the gazebo.

 

They laughed as they ran up to the castle, ignoring the calls of several guests as they flashed past. Dean pressed Castiel up against the castle wall when they reached it, kissing him fiercely as Castiel tangled his fingers in Dean’s hair. They crashed into suits of armour and nearly upset an expensive glass vase as they made their way through the castle, unable to take their hands off each other. By the time they reached Castiel’s parents’ bedroom, they were out of breath and weak kneed.

 

Dean pressed Castiel to the door, and Castiel’s mouth fell open, his breath hitching as Dean laid open mouthed kisses on Castiel’s neck. Dean tore Castiel’s jacket and shirt open, mouthing down his exposed chest. Castiel’s hips bucked slightly as Dean undid his dress trousers, his fingers entwining themselves in Dean’s hair. When Castiel was exposed Dean slowed down, taking his time to suck Castiel in deep and slow. Castiel’s body bent involuntarily, curling over Dean’s head as he clutched it.

 

“Dean,” Castiel sighed, as Dean’s tongue rolled against the underside of his cock, his mouth sliding up and down his shaft. “Oh, Dean, fuck me.”

 

Dean groaned around Castiel’s cock, making him jerk and twitch. Dean released him and dragged him towards the bed, Castiel tripping out of the trousers that were still pooled around his ankles as he went. His hands found Dean’s jacket, pushing it off his shoulders so it fell to the floor as they went. Then he was unbuttoning his shirt, the cotton slipping over Dean’s tanned skin, exposing his freckled chest so Castiel could lay breathy, sloppy kisses to it.

 

They fell on the bed. Dean rolled them over so Castiel was beneath him, his hands tilting Castiel’s head back so his mouth opened for Dean’s needy kisses. Then they were shifting backwards up the bed, Dean’s mouth chasing Castiel’s as he undid his trousers.

 

Castiel broke the kiss to rummage in the side table for the lube. He handed it to Dean when he found it.

 

“I need your fingers in me,” Castiel murmured, before kissing Dean hard.

 

Dean let out a little moan, and uncorked the bottle. Castiel lay back against the pillows, his eyes finding Dean’s as Dean pressed a finger to his entrance. Dean pressed a kiss to his lips the moment his finger slid into Castiel. Castiel whimpered against Dean’s mouth, arching his back to encourage Dean to go deeper.

 

“You’re impatient tonight,” Dean said with a smirk, sliding his finger out and adding a second.

 

“It must be the wine,” Castiel panted out, his blue eyes on Dean’s green ones as Dean’s long fingers slid in and out of him. “And that we’re married…”

 

“Hmmm, married,” Dean purred, a smile splitting across his lips. “And I took a vow to honour you with my life didn’t I? So tell me, how should I honour my husband?”

 

Castiel groaned at the sound of the word husband, said at the same moment that Dean’s fingers pressed into that sweet spot inside him.

 

“I want to be fucked into oblivion by my beloved,” Castiel whispered, his cheeks flushed and his hips rolling with the rhythm of Dean’s hands as they stared into each other's eyes. “I want to be pounded into the mattress by my dearest… I want to scream and shout the name of my husband.”

 

Dean let out a low growl and withdrew his fingers as he kissed Castiel. He hurriedly spread lube over his already hard cock and quickly leant back down over Castiel to line himself up.

 

“Castiel,” his name was a sigh on Dean’s lips as he pushed into him.

 

Castiel’s back arched and he clutched Dean’s shoulder blades as Dean bottomed out inside of him. Dean’s heat was exquisite against him, his weight pushing Castiel’s legs apart a blessing, and his mouth a hazy summer dream. Castiel moaned into Dean’s mouth as Dean started to move, his walls relaxing around Dean’s length as it slid in and out of him.

 

Dean went slow, their hips rolling together, their bodies slightly slick. It was excruciatingly good. Castiel was whimpering and clutching Dean’s back, biting his lips so hard he drew blood.

 

“Shhhh,” Dean hushed, smoothing a thumb over Castiel’s lower lip to coax it from between his teeth. “You’ll hurt yourself, baby. Just let it out.”

 

Dean pressed deep into him and Castiel let out a cry.

 

“More,” Castiel gasped. “Dean I need more.”

 

Dean leant back slightly and grabbed the headboard with one hand, the other still supporting his weight. Then he thrust into Castiel so hard that the breath was knocked right from him. Dean set up a relentless pace, Castiel’s body rocking with each thrust, his legs flopping uselessly at Dean’s sides. Castiel groaned and reached up to press a hand to the headboard, helping him push back into Dean’s thrusts. Dean let out a throaty moan and his head fell forward to rest in the crook of Castiel’s neck.

 

Castiel didn’t think he’d ever felt so full. It wasn’t only Dean’s incredible cock pounding into him, it was the fact that it was his husband’s incredible cock pounding into him. Castiel finally had a proper family, one that was on paper, official and forever.

 

Castiel found Dean’s mouth, his hand cupping the side of Dean’s jaw as he swore. Dean groaned in response and kissed him harder, always a sucker for Castiel getting a filthy mouth during sex.

 

“Wait,” Castiel said breathlessly, and scrambled to turn over onto his hands and knees.

 

Dean let out a little moan and took his hips in his hands.

 

“Give it to me hard, baby,” Castiel murmured, his eyes finding Dean’s over his shoulder.

 

Dean bit his lip and slid again into Castiel’s needy hole. Castiel pushed back, keening as he clutched the pillow. And again Dean was pounding him, gripping his hips as he used his body mercilessly. And Castiel loved it.

 

“Fuck, fuck Dean, yes,” Castiel gasped, his mouth open as Dean fucked into him hard. “Yes fucking give it to me, I fucking love your cock.”

 

Dean let out a moan, clearly loving Castiel’s dirty talk.

 

“I’m  —  I’m close,” Dean said, his voice breaking.

 

“Yes, baby,” Castiel keened. “Cum inside me, fill me up.”

 

That sent Dean over the edge, and he reached around as he came, clutching Castiel’s cock and only having to give it three quick tugs before Castiel was spilling his load. He screamed Dean’s name into the pillow, muffling the sound. They rode out their orgasms, hips rolling together until Dean slowed, and eventually stopped.

 

Dean drew out and flopped down to the side. Castiel kicked the soiled throw away, glad they hadn’t dirtied the actual duvet as he pulled it up to cover them both. Then he draped himself across Dean’s chest, both of them breathing heavily.

 

“Love you,” Dean murmured sleepily, giving Castiel a little squeeze as he pecked a kiss to the top of his head.

 

“Love you too,” Castiel returned, blinking sleepily. “Goodnight, Dean Winchester-Novak.”

 

He felt Dean’s smile from where his lips were pressed against his hair.

 

“Goodnight, Castiel Winchester-Novak.”

  
And they drifted off to sleep, safe in their forever, at peace in their completion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We did it my dudes! We reached the end! Thank you so much for all your kudos and kind comments, I loved reading them and they really spurred me on to write this.
> 
> I'd love to write a one shot about the Dean and Castiel from this fic adopting a child, but that may not happen.
> 
> Thanks again, love you all!


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